The Secrets We Keep
by enunciiate
Summary: Blair unintentionally spills all of her secrets to a handsome stranger on a plane. Normally, this wouldn't be a problem, except he turns out to be her boss. Based on the novel 'Can You Keep A Secret' by Sophie Kinsella. AU. Please R&R!
1. Flight

**A/N:** There are probably only two chapters left of Metamorphosis, so I am getting a head start on a new story. I am still not in the mood to finish Death By Design. However, I think you will find this story satisfying. The general plot is based on the novel 'Can You Keep A Secret?' by Sophie Kinsella, although I will most likely change things along the way. Please note that the first few chapters will probably be extremely similar to the book as I will need some time to find my own voice. Review?

**Flight**

* * *

Everyone has secrets. Yes, even those of us who claim to have none. No one is honest _all_ the time. Think about all the horrible scenarios that could happen as a result. Say Mary is about to breakup with Sam because she realizes that she just might have feelings for her coworker John.

Mary: I want to break up.

Sam: What? Why? I love you.

Mary: I'm in love with someone else.

Sam: Someone else?

Mary: Yes, John. You remember him? I think I mentioned him to you once or twice. We just _connected_.

Sam: Is this some kind of joke? I have been nothing but good to you.

Mary: True, but you bore me, especially in bed. It's not me. It's _you_.

Sam then proceeds to have a mental break down and becomes the male equivalent of a cat lady. Now, the example I have given may seem a bit extreme, but I _am_ trying to convey the serious consequences here of a totally honest world. Again, I repeat: _Everyone_ has secrets.

Heck! _I_ have a secret. I have _many_ secrets. Mind you, they're not exciting crappy-marketing-assistant-by-day-super-heroine-by-night sort of secrets, but they're secrets none the less. Actually, come to think of it, I don't have many secrets. In fact, these are the only ones I can come up with off the top of my head:

1. I am not a virgin, not even close.

2. Once I had this really weird lesbian dream about my best friend Serena.

3. My boyfriend Nate has always reminded me of Ken. Yes, as in Barbie and Ken.

4. Sometimes in the middle of passionate sex with him, I just feel like laughing.

5. I have an embarrassingly huge obsession with anything Audrey Hepburn.

6. In fact, my bedspread has her face plastered all over it.

7. I cannot _stand_ country music, but Nate is just so into it. His favorite artist is Carrie Underwood.

8. I absolutely _cannot_ stand my coworker Vanessa Abrams either. Every nasty rumor about her in the department was started by me. Sometimes, when she gets me _really_ upset, I spit in her coffee. Don't judge me.

9. Nate has horrible taste in lingerie, but I wear everything he gives me anyway to make him happy.

10. My mother has recently taken up baking to help relieve her stress. She should do the world a favor and just quit. The last batch of cookies she baked made me want to puke.

11. I _always_ eat a lollipop before going on a date. What? It helps me calm my nerves.

12. I have a tendency to bite my lip when I lie.

13. I lied about my previous job experience to land _this_ job. I have never had _any_ experience in marketing. Half the time, I have no idea what the people around me are talking about like this man in the gray suit for example.

14. Actually, I don't even remember his name.

"In conclusion, our partnership with Bass Industries ends here. We are simply choosing to move in a different direction," I hear him say.

Earth to Blair. A _different_ direction? Oh God. Oh no. This _cannot _be happening. This was supposed to be my big break. I was supposed to be promoted to marketing executive!

"Wait!" I shout without thinking.

Everyone in the boardroom turns to look at me. _Shit._ What now?

I clear my throat and take a deep breath. You can do this Blair.

"Of course I have been listening very intently to all you have to say sir, but just to recap, what is this _different_ direction you speak of exactly?" I ask him.

He raises an eyebrow. Oh dear God. He probably knows I haven't been listening. I am _so_ fired when my boss gets wind of this.

"A partnership with Rosendale Industries will simply be more beneficial to us in the foreseeable future," he humors me, repeating himself. "Their products are more affordable, which will bring in more business for us. You can understand that, can't you?"

"But their alcohol sucks!" I want to shout.

"I understand sir, but Bass Industries is internationally renowned for their alcohol," I say instead.

I am _such_ a professional. I was _born_ to do this. He motions for me to go on. Sell it to him Blair!

"When a consumer purchases a bottle of Bass alcohol, he or she is telling the world that they only buy the best, they only associate themselves with the best. You want _your_ company to be associated with the best, don't you?" I finish, adrenaline coursing through my blood.

His forehead wrinkles in thought at my words and a feeling of triumph overcomes me. _Ha!_ If only Carter could see me now! He _has_ to promote me after _this_ brilliant victory.

Blair Waldorf, marketing executive.

Blair Waldorf, marketing director.

Blair Waldorf, head of marketing.

My promotion is so close, I can almost taste it.

"With all due respect, alcohol is alcohol my dear," he mentions in a patronizing tone. "The offer Rosendale Industries has on the table is simply too good to refuse. We stand to make a bundle."

_What?_ I am desperate now. I _need_ to be promoted. My pride depends on it.

I look around for a prop, anything to give me some inspiration. I catch a bottle of Bass vodka in the corner of my eye. Perfect!

"I beg to differ," I challenge him, grabbing the bottle and quickly pouring him a glass. "No alcohol in the world tastes quite like Bass alcohol."

I hand the glass to him, willing for him to take a sip.

"I know what Bass alcohol tastes like," he refuses me politely. "Frankly, Rosendale alcohol tastes just as good. I'm sorry, but our decision is final."

No. No. _No._

"Just one sip!" I shout, thrusting the glass towards him. "There _is_ a difference."

His eyes widen suddenly and I watch in horror as the liquid swirls out of the glass, heading straight for him.

Fuck. I am _so_ fired. Forget the promotion. I'll be lucky if I get to keep my job.

I reach for a napkin and begin to dab away frantically at his wet shirt, murmuring a thousand pointless apologies as I go. His assistant pushes me away and guides him towards the door, his entire team following close behind.

"_Please!_" I yell after him just as the last person is about to leave the room. "Don't tell my boss."

But he's already gone. I am _so_ royally screwed.

* * *

I walk over to the bar, dejected, and take a seat. I desperately need a drink after the shitty day I just had. My life was never supposed to end up like this. I was _the_ head bitch in charge in high school. Everyone feared me, wanted to be me. I was supposed to be a famous fashion designer like my mother now or perhaps a big time lawyer at some topnotch law firm. I was voted most likely to succeed by my fellow classmates for crying out loud! That has to count for something, right? Long story short, neither option worked out for me in the end, so here I am, Blair Waldorf, crappy marketing assistant at Bass Industries.

"Can I get you anything darling?" the bartender addresses me, concern in his eyes.

I sigh.

"A double," I insist. "Of _anything_."

"Bad day?" he pries, setting down a drink in front of me.

"You have _no_ idea," I simply answer, not looking for conversation.

He seems to understand, heading over to the other end of the bar to serve another customer, one that looks happy.

My phone rings then. I freeze, unable to look at the caller ID. It _has_ to be Carter. Surely he knows by now how I fucked up today. I can practically hear him screaming '_You're fired!_' already from the other end of the line.

No wait. _Serena_ is calling. Just what I need. My best friend. She is the most optimistic person I know. Surely she'll know how to make me feel better.

"Serena," I start the moment I answer the phone. "You have no idea how _horrible_ the meeting was."

"Oh B!" she exclaims, immediately trying to cheer me up. "It couldn't have been _that_ bad!"

"I drenched the CEO of Desire in Bass vodka! My first big break and I screw it up!" I yell in frustration before lowering my voice.

People are staring. An air hostess smiles at me from a few seats away. Of course she's amused. None of this is happening to _her_.

"Oh wow," Serena comments sympathetically. "I guess that is pretty bad, but hey! We all make mistakes Blair! I'm sure Carter will understand. Besides, you still have Nate! He wants to have dinner with you the moment your plane lands. He would have called you himself, but he was afraid he would interrupt your meeting. Isn't he the sweetest?"

_Nate._ Yes, Nate! Dear, _sweet_ Nate! My perfect, _wonderful_ boyfriend. Serena is absolutely right. My life isn't _so_ bad. I could always get a new job. Maybe I wasn't meant to be in marketing after all. With newfound hope, I hang up the phone and head on over to the departure gate. As I walk by, people are smiling at me and I smile back. See? All you need in life is a little positivity. This world is a wonderful place, full of nice people, full of promise!

Ah! There's the air hostess from the bar now. I'll show her that nothing can get Blair Waldorf down.

I hand her my ticket and say in my chirpiest voice, "Lovely day, isn't it?"

She smiles at me awkwardly, glancing briefly down at my chest. What the _hell_ is she looking at? I follow her gaze and gasp. Two of the buttons on my blouse have somehow managed to come undone. A good chunk of my new pink, lace bra is on _full_ display for the world to see. That's why people were smiling at me, because I'm the crazy lady with the pink, lace bra. Oh God. This day could _seriously_ not get any worse. Even thinking about Nate isn't making me feel any better now. I quickly fumble with the buttons of my blouse just as the air hostess lets me pass.

"Wait!" she calls after me and I'm thinking 'Oh God. Please don't let there be a gaping hole in my pants or something too.'

"Would you like an upgrade?" she asks unexpectedly, a twinkle in her eyes.

"An upgrade?" I return uncertainly.

"I overheard your phone conversation at the bar," she explains, apologetically. "I thought maybe I could give you a break. I can upgrade your ticket to first class if you'd like."

I stare at her for a moment. _Me._ First class. _Wow._

"Can you _do_ that?" I wonder, wary. "I mean, can you just upgrade people like that?"

"Well, it's a short flight. No one will know. Just be discreet about it," she answers, throwing a wink in my direction.

I smile gratefully at her. _Yes._ This is exactly what I need. God bless all the air hostesses of the world!

She guides me towards my new spacious, leather seat. I can feel myself relaxing already. Me, Blair Waldorf, _here_ in first class! I glance around at my surroundings, taking everything in. There are so many business people here, all in their fancy suits and ties. I almost feel like I'm intruding. _No._ I'm just as good at what I do as they are with what they do. Like Serena says, everyone messes up once in a while. No big deal. _This_ is definitely where I belong.

"Can I get you some champagne?" my friend the air hostess questions, her smile as bright as ever.

"Absolutely! Thank you so much," I reply.

She should seriously get a raise.

"And for you sir?" she asks the man beside me.

"Nothing for now," he answers, leafing through the papers in his hands. "Thank you."

He has a British accent I note. I _love_ British accents. In fact, Nate would be even more perfect if he had one. Actually, no. Scratch that. Nate is _perfect_ the way he is. I wouldn't change anything about him just like he wouldn't change anything about me.

Now, how shall I entertain myself on this flight? I could watch a movie I suppose or read a magazine. Yes, a magazine sounds good. I wonder what Angelina Jolie is up to these days?

"Here you go!" the air hostess announces as she hands me my champagne. "Enjoy your flight!"

I smile again, about to start flipping through my magazine when I suddenly have the urge to introduce myself to the man beside me. It would be rude not to and I _should _really take the time to widen my social network anyway. Reading a gossip magazine is certainly not going to help my career. I've lost track of how many kids Brad and Angelina have now anyway.

"Hi! I'm Blair. Blair Waldorf," I start, reaching out a hand for him to shake, acting all friendly.

He looks up from his papers for a brief moment to observe me. He doesn't even bother to return my smile.

"Chuck," he offers finally, gripping my hand for a split second before turning away again.

"Chuck…?" I continue, waiting for his last name.

He doesn't answer me and is again, fully absorbed into the papers in his hands. _Geez._ Rude much? Oh well. Who says I would have wanted to strike up a conversation with him anyway? I look around to see if I could possibly introduce myself to someone else, someone more approachable, but everyone seems to be busy with something or another. Fine. I'll just read my magazine then and worry about my career later. This is a short flight after all. I'll be home in Nate's comforting arms before I know it. Just relax Waldorf. Just _relax_.


	2. Whirr

**A/N:** Seriously. Thank you _so_ much for all your wonderful reviews. I wish I could reply to every single one of them, but there's a lack of internet where I am right now. For those of you who are worried that Blair might be a little too much of Emma and not enough well, Blair, don't even stress. I _know _the similarities and differences between the two characters. Blair will start being more Blair in the upcoming chapters. Given the rather stressful situations she was in in these first two chapters, I thought it was fair that she be a little less put together than usual. Side note: Sophie Kinsella is one of my favourite authors and I know I won't be able to do her justice, but I will try my best. I hope you enjoy this chapter and thank you in advance for your feedback.

**Whirr**

* * *

Somehow between the article with the details of Hilary Duff's wedding and how Lindsay is currently doing in rehab, I fell asleep, which was for the best really. Ridiculous, irrational thoughts tend to wander into my head when I fail to distract myself on a flight. Ridiculous, irrational thoughts of _dying_. In fact, I'm thinking about them right now. _Shit._ My hands immediately tighten their grip on the armrests of my seat. Deep breaths Blair. You're almost there, almost home.

Oh look! A well-designed pamphlet. This will keep me occupied for awhile. With an outward appearance of utmost calm, I pick it up and open its pages. Oh dear _God_. A _safety_ pamphlet? Why do these things happen to me? I can't help but glance at the tiny stick people in the drawings, my eyes darting quickly from one picture to the next. There's one helping a child put on his oxygen mask, another, wearing a _hideous_ orange life jacket, is heading towards the nearest exit. _No._ I need to stop thinking about this. Everything will be fine!

I put the pamphlet back in its place and stop one of the air hostesses as she walks past me. I just _have_ to know.

"How much longer until we land?" I inquire.

"About half an hour," she replies jubilantly, flipping her shiny, red hair over her shoulders, looking past me.

I realize she's trying to get the man's attention. Puh-lease. Like he would give _her _the time of day. What was his name again? Oh right. _Chuck._ What an _unfriendly_ name. As predicted, he is as non-responsive as ever, still absorbed into his papers. Honestly, who works _this_ hard?

Oh great. The air hostess is gone too now. I was hoping to strike up a _very_, long conversation with her to distract myself from my impending doom. Maybe I should give Nate a call. He always knows how to calm me down. Yes, I'll do that. I take out my cell phone and punch in his number when the British gentleman speaks.

"You're not allowed to use mobile devices on the flight," he comments without even looking at me.

"Right. Of course," I answer, switching it off immediately, my cheeks flushed. "I knew that."

No response.

"I was actually just…" I start to explain myself, glancing at him.

Oh. What's the point? This is so _embarrassing_. I can't even bring myself to use the seat phone now.

Whirr. Whirr. _Whirr._

I freeze, unable to move at the sound. What _was_ that? Wait a minute. No. It's gone. My delusional head is messing with me again. Relax Waldorf. Almost there. Think about Nate. Nate. _Nate._ Nate.

Whirr. _Whirr._ Whirr.

Oh God! There it is again! I am _sure_ I heard it this time.

"Where _is_ that sound coming from?" I question nervously, flitting my eyes around the plane, searching for the source.

I'm speaking to no one in particular I suppose, just to myself.

"What sound?" the man echoes, finally giving me his attention. "Are you a nervous flyer Blair?"

I'm startled for a moment. He remembers my _name_? Wow. Color me shocked.

_Whirr. Whirr. Whirr._

Oh sweet baby Jesus! It's that sound again. There's something wrong with the plane! We're all going to _die_!

"_That_ one!" I exclaim, fear starting to well up inside me. "The _Whirr. Whirr. Whirr._ Do you not _hear_ it?"

I'm making these stupid faces as I imitate the sound I'm sure, which is probably why he's looking at me like I'm crazy, but suddenly, he looks concerned too. There is an unexpected jolt and I sit up in my seat, alert. Like, _super_ alert.

"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking. We ask that you please return to your seats at this time and fasten your seatbelts. We're just experiencing a bit of turbulence here. We will be arriving in New York very shortly."

There is _another_ jolt and I automatically reach over to grip Chuck's hand, his arm, whatever. He glances at me, but makes no attempt to remove my hand from his, mostly because he probably won't be able to. I can feel my nails digging into his skin.

"Just _relax_," he tells me, looking even more concerned now. "It's just a bit of turbulence."

Of _course_ he looks so concerned! I probably look like I'm about to have a seizure!

Another jolt.

"We're all going to _die_!" I shout in full on panic mode now.

"We're not going to die," he assures me in that annoyingly calm tone of his again. "You heard the captain. We'll be arriving in New York shortly."

"Well of course he's going to say that!" I protest, still gripping onto him with all my might. "He's not exactly going to make an announcement and say, 'Sorry folks! This is the end of the line for all of you! It was a pleasure having you on the flight!'"

He winces slightly as my nails nearly pierce his flesh. I try to loosen my grip on him a little, but there's another sudden bump. My _ass_ just left my seat momentarily. This is it. I am going to die at the age of 25. I haven't left my mark on the world! I haven't been married, haven't had any children! I haven't saved a life! Well, there was this one time at the beach where I thought I was saving this really cute guy from drowning, but he just thought I was coming onto him. In my defense, I thought he was in _serious _trouble.

_Whirr. Whirr. Whirr._

The sound is getting louder. I hear a scream. The elderly lady behind me is praying. An air hostess has collapsed into a useless heap on the floor. I repeat! _We are all going to die!_ I turn to look at the man beside me again. Even he looks slightly pale now, although I'm not sure whether he's actually scared or I'm just cutting off all the circulation to his left arm. My thoughts are too jumbled to even differentiate between my insane imagination and reality right now.

"We're not going to make it," I reiterate. "I _know_ we're not. I'm not _ready_ to die!"

I glance down at the floor and notice my magazine has somehow flipped to an article titled '30 Things To Do Before You're 30.' I skim the list and immediately begin to ramble. I officially have another not-so-secret secret.

15. I am terrified of flying and when I am terrified, rationality flies out the fucking window and I like to ramble. _A lot._

"I've never run in a marathon before," I confess before I quickly add, "Not that I really want to of course."

No response.

"I've never had a hangover before, I don't even know if I _have_ a G spot..."

"Pardon me?" Chuck questions, but I barely pay him any mind.

I just can't stop _rambling_.

"I haven't achieved anything in life! My parents both think I'm a failure. I've never done anything to make them proud!"

"I'm sure that's not true," he says politely.

"It _is_!" I insist, my eyes shut tight now.

We're falling. We're _falling_.

"My mother is more proud of Jenny than she is of me and I'm her _biological_ daughter! She moved in with us when she was 10 after her parents both died in a car crash. My mother is good friends with her mother, go figure, so she adopted her so to speak. I immediately wanted to make her feel welcome! I even gave her my _room_! I thought it would be cool, you know, having a younger girl around? I could be like the wiser, older sister, give her advice on boys or whatnot, but then she took an interest in fashion! _Fashion!_ I swear she only showed an interest in fashion to make _me_ look bad in front of my mom. One time, I got fed up with all the attention Jenny was getting and sketched out a few designs myself. My mother took one look at them, shook her head, and said, 'What a wonderful effort dear, but you just don't have that natural _flair_ that Jenny has.' Natural _flair_? I have plenty of natural _flair_, wouldn't you agree?"

He nods or at least I think he does.

"Anyway, my career's a complete _joke_. I'm not some sharp business executive, commanding some huge, successful team around. I have no clue what the people around me are talking about half the time. They use fancy words like 'multi-logistics'. What the _fuck_ does that even mean? I'm a crappy assistant. My official title is 'Blair Waldorf, _marketing_ assistant', but I fetch coffee for the department for God's sake! My boss makes me pick up his dry cleaning for him at least twice a week! I still haven't paid off my student loans from college! My mother paid for my education actually, but she wants me to learn the value of money, so I have to pay her back! Do you _know_ how much money I owe her? She'll probably just be upset that I didn't have a chance to pay her back when she gets wind of my terrible death. She paid for _everything_ when Jenny jumpstarted her career in the fashion industry! God I hate that blonde, upstaging bitch so much!"

The plane levels off for a moment, bringing me for a split second back to reality. Oops. Was that my _outside _voice?

"I'm sorry," I apologize, my hands gripping the armrests of my seat now instead of his arm, although I have no idea how that happened. "You really don't want to hear all..."

Bump. Jolt. Shit. _Shit._ Shit.

"Did I mention I've never been in love before? Yeah! Do you know how tragic it is to die without ever having been in love? Well, _do_ you?"

I take a breath and stop myself for a moment. No wait. That isn't right. I'm in love with Nate. The altitude must be messing with my head.

Another jolt. And with every bump after that, words come spilling out of my mouth like a waterfall. I am unstoppable.

"...awful colleague named Vanessa. The other day, there was a new computer up for grabs and she just _took _it, even though my crappy computer is practically falling apart…"

"...was determined to find my G spot, so we spent all day..."

"...so desperate for a job I even asked Jenny to...It was so embarrassing that..."

"...only when she really pisses me off, which is practically every day. The coffee at work tastes awful anyway..."

"...weigh 118 pounds, but Nate thinks I'm a size _4_..."

"...horrible taste in lingerie and gifts in general for that matter...this _hideous_ neon green watch for my birthday...absolutely hate it..."

"...lesbian dream about my best friend Serena..."

Now, I am _really_ on a roll.

"...really sweet girl named Nelly...have this code where she asks to run some numbers by me, but we're really just going out for Starbucks and to gossip, mostly about what a bitch Vanessa is..."

"...lost my virginity to David Fields in some hotel room, while my mother was hosting a ball for our high school celibacy club downstairs..."

"...Carrie Underwood! Can you believe it? I just cannot _stand_...pretend to like it anyway..."

"...got a little too drunk at the last Christmas party...photocopy of my ass on the bulletin board in the department...will _never_ own up to it..."

"...broke my boss's favorite coffee mug...says 'World's Best Boss'...ironic, don't you think?...ended up hiding the pieces in Vanessa Abram's desk and framed her for it...felt so _good_ to see her being..."

"...told my mother I love her new fashion line, but..."

"...mentioned Nate to you, right? He's the sweetest guy ever, but sometimes I feel so insecure around him. Sometimes I think he's better looking than me...as in _Barbie_ and Ken..."

"...also annoyingly quotes Glee all the time...watched that show before? I used to love it, but he talks about it so much now I just want to slap him upside the head every time he..."

"...wore a headband everyday in high…made me feel powerful, unstoppable…"

"...just start crying whenever I hear the song 'My Heart Will Go On'..."

_Stop. Stop. Stop._

"...joined a book club, but I just couldn't get _through_ Pride And Prejudice...read a very, detailed summary online and..."

"...strawberry ice cream, my absolute favorite dessert..."

"...perfect date would start off with a box of truffles appearing at the table as..."

"...think people who wear bowties are pompous asses..."

"...serious relationships lose their initial passion eventually, right? Sometimes I feel like we're in a rut, you know? I know Nate is great and everything, but where did the _passion _go? I want romance! I want to be swept off my feet! I am _so_ not ready to..."

"Excuse me, miss?"

"What?"

I finally open my eyes just as the air hostess replies, "We've landed."

We've _landed_? No. That's impossible. Wait...

"We're not bumping anymore!" I comment stupidly.

"The bumping stopped quite awhile ago actually," Chuck offers, an amused smile across his face.

He doesn't seem to be laughing _at_ me though, so I let the smirk slide. What's important is that I can see the _ground_! I'm _alive_! I'm not going to die after all!

"We're not going to die!" I exclaim, excitedly, getting up from my seat, ready to leave.

"We're not going to die," he agrees, collecting his things as well.

Then, as if for the first time, it hits me. I've been spewing all kinds of random nonsense to this stranger. Lord knows what I've told him. My face is now hot with _major_ embarrassment. What did I say to him? _What did I say to him?_ Oh no. I think I even mentioned my G spot. My _G spot_! The mortification is almost too much to bear. I have to get off this plane. Right. _Now._

"You should have stopped me," I tell him simply, mostly because it's the only thing I can bring myself to say at the moment.

"You were sort of on a roll," he states in return, shrugging his shoulders slightly, his previous cool demeanor surfacing once again.

Right. No matter. I'll never see him again anyway.

"Well, enjoy your visit," I finish quickly before rushing off.

I don't even bother waiting for a response. I just want to go home already.

"Blair!" a familiar voice suddenly calls out.

_Nate._ I immediately run into his arms, needing some serious comfort after what I've just been through.

"Nate! You're _here_!"

"I heard there was some turbulence on your flight. I was _so_ worried Blair. My heart nearly stopped when I heard that they had to get a paramedic out there the moment your plane landed."

He was _worried_ about me! I am so lucky to have him.

"Oh Nate!" I fill him in. "You have no idea how terrifying it was! I honestly thought I was going to die!"

"Blair," he whispers suddenly, causing me to pause. "I never realized how much you mean to me until I thought I would lose you forever."

My eyes widen. No. No. _Please._ No.

"I love you Blair. Will you...?"

He trails off. Do _not_. Do _not_ propose to me. Please do _not_ propose to me. I'm not ready for marriage! No problem, I can wing this. I am a Waldorf! Yes, I have my response ready. 'Sorry Nate, but I think I need some time to...'

"...move in with me?" he finishes, looking to me for an answer.

Move in with him? _Duh._ Why would he _propose_?

"Oh gee Nate," I start, not even sure of what I want.

"You don't want to move in with me," he suggests at my lack of a response, looking dejected.

"No! Of _course_ I do!" I insist (convincingly, I might add). "I'm just still in shock from the flight is all. I'd love to move in with you Nate!"

He smiles. I smile. He kisses me. I kiss him back. See? We're _perfect_ for each other. All that nonsense about me never having been in love on the plane was all just, well, nonsense. I'm alive _and_ I'm moving in with my totally devoted boyfriend. My seemingly crappy life is starting to look better already!


	3. Family

**A/N:** I miss Penelope more than I ever thought I would. Actually, I just miss the original mean girls in general. I think you will notice that I am starting to deter a little from the book by the end of this chapter. I will continue to make an effort to do so. Thank you for your patience.

**Family**

* * *

I wake up the next morning to the smell of wonderful coffee, worlds apart from the poison they serve at the office.

"Good morning," Nate greets me, smiling down at me, a hot, steaming mug already in his hands.

"Morning," I whisper, still as tired as ever.

He sets the coffee down on the side table, sensing that I don't want it just yet. He knows me _so_ well. I bury my face deeper into my pillow, hoping to get a few more minutes of sleep, but for some reason, I just can't. Something is really irritating me this morning, like a pesky mosquito that just won't go away – no, not Nate.

I take a moment to really take in my surroundings. I'm in Nate's apartment. We had dinner last night, then sex, and then – It's all coming back to me now. I already feel a headache coming on. The plane ride. That terrible, _horrible_ plane ride.

"Still thinking about yesterday?" Nate offers, placing a kiss on my temple in an effort to comfort me.

I nod, sitting up in an upright position beside him now.

"Maybe you should cancel on your parents," he suggests, concerned first and foremost for my well-being.

Cancel on my parents? Why would I need to…? Oh right. They called last night. Jenny won some prestigious award or whatnot again, this time for her new line of summer dresses, and we just _have_ to celebrate. The designs haven't even been introduced to the public yet, which is why she's hosting a fashion show tonight, which I will unfortunately be forced to attend.

No really. My mother will drag me there with her last, dying breath if she has to. I mean, big deal. She'll showcase her gorgeous new designs, people will applause and cheer, and then some important somebody will hand her some shiny award for them. It's the same routine every _single_ time. So she designs clothes – whoop-dee-_fucking_-doo!

"You know I can't cancel on them Nate," I answer with a sigh, taking a sip of my coffee. "My mother would kill me."

More specifically, she'll ramble on about how I don't give Jenny enough support, how I've disappointed her yet again. I definitely do _not_ need to hear that speech today.

"I guess," he agrees finally, getting up to change. "Sorry I can't be there with you, but I promised my mother I would spend the day with her today, take her shopping."

I smile at him and nod. As if Nate weren't perfect enough already, he actually _enjoys_ seeing my parents and being 100% involved in my life. I am just so darn lucky to have him.

"I _can_ try to make it to the fashion show tonight though," he adds thoughtfully, "I mean, if you'll be able to get another ticket for my mother."

His mother and my mother in the _same_ room? Yeah. _No_ thank you. While my mother has always been fond of Nate (and thinks he's actually way out of my league by the way), she finds his _mother_ unbearable. Lord knows why. My mother finds a lot of things unbearable. Personally, I love Nate's mother.

16. Sometimes, I wish she were mine.

"Oh gee Nate," I inform him, apologetically. "Jenny already has the guest list set. You know how she gets when she needs to make any changes to her perfect plans."

Actually, Jenny would probably be thrilled if Nate _and_ his mother came. Two more people to impress, to make me feel even more inferior.

"Sure thing," he answers with a wink. "Don't even sweat it."

Somehow his choice of words causes my mind to stir. That little voice inside my head is telling me I _should_ be sweating something right now. Now, what could it be?

"Blair, are you listening to me?" I hear him ask suddenly.

"Sorry," I apologize right away. "I was totally spacing out. What were you talking about?"

"About us moving in together?" he reminds me, looking at me for a response.

_Any_ response.

Oh right. I agreed to move in with him yesterday. _That_ must be the thing that's nagging at me right now, but for once, that little voice inside my head is wrong, _very_ wrong. I'm thrilled! Over the moon! Ok, not really, but it's just my nerves acting up again I'm sure.

"Oh, of course!" I exclaim, trying to sound as excited as I can. "I'll have to give Serena and Penelope notice of course."

"And I'll have to tell Scott," he echoes, checking his reflection in the mirror now. "We'll also have to make sure the place is right for us, you know?"

He has the bluest eyes and the most wonderful abs, I note then. I'd kill to be his girlfriend if I wasn't already. Seriously. He could be a model, a movie star!

"In fact, I've checked out a few places already that I think you'll really like," he continues, a look of pride on his face for always being one step ahead of the game. "I made sure that every single kitchen was well-equipped of course."

The kitchen? Of course.

17. All those times that I "cooked" for Nate, it was actually just really good takeout.

"I'm sure I will," I assure him, getting up to get dressed myself.

"Oh, and I totally forgot to tell you!"

Nate reaches for his briefcase and pulls out an envelope.

"Guess what I got tickets for!" he gushes.

And I'm thinking, "A romantic getaway? To France? Oh Nate! You shouldn't have!"

As _if_.

"Tickets for a concert...?" he hints, a twinkle in his eye.

Oh no. Please. Anyone but Carrie Underwood. _Anyone but Carrie Underwood._

"Oh come on Blair!" he shouts in exasperation, giving up. "Tickets for the Carrie Underwood concert coming up in a few weeks! You _love_ her! We went to see her that one time last year, remember?"

"Oh wow!" I respond, feeding him as much excitement as he seems to be giving me. "This is _so_ thoughtful of you Nate! She sounded _so_ awesome live, one of the best nights of my life!"

It's not a complete lie. I mean, country music just isn't really my style, but she does have an amazing voice. In fact, I'm absolutely positive that I will fall in love with country music, and subsequently Carrie Underwood one day.

"I knew you'd be thrilled," he notes, heading for the door.

I smile and nod. When in doubt, _always_ smile and nod. I really wish he'd just go now. I always feel a little guilty when I have to lie to him.

I casually glance at the hideous neon green watch he gave me for my last birthday and say, "I _am_! You'd better head out though now. Wouldn't want to keep your mother waiting!"

"Oh right," Nate mutters. "Well, have a nice day with the family! Say hi to your mom and dad for me."

"Sure will!" I respond, waving him off.

He leaves, taking (thankfully) the awkward with him. Dear God, I'm having a terribly off morning. Normally, things between us aren't like this, so _contrived_. Must still have the jitters. It'll wear off soon. I'm sure of it. I'm already a lot calmer today, a lot more _me_.

My phone rings suddenly, causing me to jump. Geez! That scared the crap out of me. See? Jitters. Who the hell is calling me this early in the morning anyway? _Nate?_ He just left! He'll probably just tell me he misses me or something. No big deal.

"Nate?" I speak uncertainly into the phone, as if doubting the powers of caller ID.

"Blair, I've been thinking..." he starts on the other end of line.

He sounds hesitant, doubtful. I can see his forehead crease in worry in my head. _Yes!_ He is totally having second thoughts about living together! Or the Carrie Underwood concert! He might be having second thoughts about _both_! God _does_ love me! I can already see the conversation playing out in my head.

Me: Oh! You don't want to move in together just yet Nate?

Nate: Not really. Are you upset?

Me: Upset? _No!_ A little _disappointed_ maybe, but I think we should wait a little longer before we take that next step too.

Nate: And about that Carrie Underwood concert...

Me: Don't even worry about it. Really. _Don't. Even. Stress._

We'll be amazed (again) by how in sync we are, exchange an 'I love you' (or two), and then move on with this wonderful, glorious day!

"Blair?" he questions when I give him no response.

"I'm listening," I make sure he knows.

A pause.

"We've always been really honest and open with each other, right?" he asks, still hesitant in his words.

"Uh," I begin. "Yes, of course. Always."

I catch my reflection in the mirror and naturally, I'm biting my lip.

"I was just wondering, why don't we have pet names for each other?"

_Pet_ names? Is he _fucking_ out of his mind? Don't get me wrong. I'm all for terms of endearment like the next girl, but when the time is right, when I'm happily married perhaps. Yes. Now would definitely be too much, too soon.

"I wasn't aware that you wanted us to have pet names for each other," I answer tactfully, not wanting to hurt his feelings.

"Well, I just noticed that Scott and his girlfriend call each other sweetie and stuff all the time, you know, and I was wondering why we don't do the same…" he trails off, not getting the clue that I am simply _not_ on board with this.

"I have to be honest with you Nate," I decide to be truthful just this once. "I'm not really big on the idea of us calling each other sweetie…and stuff."

Another pause.

"Oh," he stutters. "I just thought that since we're moving in together and everything, you know, being in a fully committed relationship, I thought…"

Seriously. Can this phone conversation just _end_?

"You know what Nate?" I say brightly. "I actually just really only have a problem with the word sweetie."

"Oh!" he mentions, much happier now. "What about pumpkin then? Or cupcake?"

'_Fuck no!_' I feel like shouting before slamming my head against the wall (repeatedly).

"Or how about darling then?"

No. No. _No!_ Well, actually, after he suggested pumpkin and cupcake, calling him darling will be a walk in the park. On second thought, deal! Case Closed! _Please_ just let me hang up the phone!

"Sounds great, um, darling," I respond finally, much to his satisfaction.

"Call you later then darling," he returns, prepared to hang up the phone, finally satisfied with the conversation. "I love –"

_I_ hang up on him then. If he calls back, I'll just plead bad connection, bad reception, whatever. Darling! I mean, is he _serious_? No matter. He'll probably forget all about this calling-each-other-pet-names nonsense in an hour, or two, or _never_. _Oh God._

* * *

It takes me a good 20 minutes to get back to my apartment, but the moment I'm there, I feel _so_ at home. In fact, Serena is already up to greet me. The welcoming smell of scrambled eggs and bacon assaults my senses as I seat myself at the dining table.

"I was wondering where you were," she grins, setting down a glass of orange juice in front of me. "Too busy being wrapped up in Nate's comforting arms?"

She's teasing me, but today, I'm too out of it for a decent comeback.

"Yeah, sort of," I simply answer, picking up my fork.

I pause in my movements.

"Where's Penelope?" I ask.

18. I hate it when people start eating before everyone is seated at the table.

_What?_ I just find it rude.

"Still sleeping," Serena states, shrugging and starting to dig into her breakfast. "Just start without her B. She had a long night if you know what I mean."

Oh, I _know_ what she means. My other roommate Penelope is, for lack of a better word, a prostitute, although she tells us all the time that she prefers the term 'escort' or 'call girl'. When Serena and I were first interviewing potential candidates to be our roommate, she failed to mention this very (according to her) _insignificant_ part of her life. By the time we found out though, we had already gotten used to having her around.

Truthfully, I will probably never understand why she does what she does. She claims that the money is just too good to resist. She's always wearing designer duds, so she's probably right. She makes it a point to never bring her work home with her, so I guess Serena and I are alright with it. I mean, she really is a very nice girl, and a hell of a lot of fun too.

Besides, she can be a total bitch sometimes, which is great, because Serena and I can get to be really big bitches too when people rub us the wrong way. There was this one time where the guy refused to pay her afterwards and she actually poured a vial of chili oil all over his um, well, you know. Sometimes I think Penelope is a bigger bitch than Serena and I combined, which apparently she gets from her mother. I hope I never have the pleasure of meeting her.

Anyhow, the three of us have sort of developed this unbreakable bond, regardless of our um, career choices.

"Oh I had a _long_ night alright," Penelope interrupts, seating herself at the table with a yawn.

Serena and I both give her a look of disgust.

"You two are such prudes," she jokes, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "Heard about your little outburst yesterday by the way B. Big mistake."

I look accusingly at Serena, who shrugs, as if saying, 'Come on! She would have found out eventually, from, well, me.'

"Now that we've established the obvious P, how about we talk about something else," I retort, taking a stab at a strip of bacon on my plate.

"Touchy, touchy," she responds, more sympathetic this time around. "I'm just saying. That's probably the worst thing you could do, reveal your deepest, darkest secrets to some man on a plane, or any man for that matter."

Serena speaks up then, looking up from the script she's been studying intently. Yeah, she's an aspiring actress. Right now, she's only getting a few small roles in TV shows and such, but Penelope and I are certain she'll make it big one day, and so do her parents. Must be nice to have supportive parents. I wouldn't know.

"Give her a break, alright? She probably just wants to forget the whole thing ever happened, move on with her life. It's not like she'll ever see him again," she comments.

"Never say never," Penelope teases, helping herself to seconds.

Oh, she thinks she's _so_ funny.

"What sort of secrets did you spill to this complete stranger, anyway?" she adds eagerly, wanting to know, unwilling to drop the subject.

"Knowledge gives you power," she'd always remind us, and by knowledge, she really means potential blackmail.

Serena glances between us nervously, knowing I might snap at any moment, and I'm about to, except her cell phone rings then, which is a good thing of course because I was about to rip her a new one. Penelope glances briefly at the caller ID before excusing herself from the table, probably to deal with yet another client who wants to see her tonight.

"You don't have any secrets from _me_ B, do you?" I hear Serena ask me thoughtfully.

Well, now that you mention it, once I had this weird lesbian dream about you and…

"What? Of course not," I start, but she raises her eyebrow, calling my bluff. "Alright, maybe like one, but you keep secrets from me too I'm sure!"

"Nu uh, I tell you everything," she defends herself immediately.

I arch _my _eyebrow this time around. As expected, she squirms under my gaze.

"Maybe one, or two, or a few, you know," she admits, looking at me sheepishly.

A _few_? Hey, now. I only have maybe the one. Now I can't help but wonder what sort of secrets Serena might be keeping from _me_. I couldn't possibly ask her about them without having to share some of my own though, so I keep quiet.

"Anyway, what if you _do_ see him again B?" she wonders, more concerned than I am over the possibility. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but _what if_, you know?"

"I'm not _going _to see him again," I stress, although even _I'm_ not fully convinced. "He seemed to be here on business, and solely business, so I'm sure he went back to wherever he came from already, or will very soon. I mean, he had a British accent, so he's…"

"He had a _British_ accent?" Serena squeals into my ear, giddy with excitement, causing me to flinch. "You didn't mention that last night B! I bet he was really good-looking too, huh?"

Why must she assume that all British guys are…? Ok, well, regardless, I suppose the man from the plane _was_ quite handsome. He wasn't exactly Ken doll good-looking like Nate of course. He was more rough around the edges, with slightly ruffled hair, well-defined cheek bones, jaw line, and he had the most piercing…

"Earth to Blair!" Serena shouts, grinning wide. "Wow. _That _good-looking, huh?"

"I wasn't thinking about _him_," I say quickly, giving her my best 'Bitch, please' look. "I was just, uh…"

Thankfully, Penelope returns to the table at that very moment, phone in hand, saving me from having to explain myself, not that I would have been able to anyway, probably.

"So bad news B," she announces, only half-apologetically. "I have a super high profile client tonight, so I'm going to have to miss out on _that thing's_ fashion show. I can sneak out for a quick drink after though, maybe?"

Normally, I'm thrilled when Serena or Penelope refers to Jenny as 'that thing', but I'm too hung up on the possibility of running into this Chuck character again right now to even care. _Oh God._ What if I _do _see him again? What if he's on one of those long, business trips that last a good week or two? I'll be walking to work one day and bump into him on the street. He'll recognize me and exclaim, despite my 'Seriously sir, you have the wrong person' mantra, 'Oh hey! You're the girl on the plane who just couldn't shut up! I remember you! How goes the search for that G spot of yours?'

Then again, I could always change my identity, relocate somewhere, maybe the tropics. I could sign myself up for the witness protection program! How much does plastic surgery cost nowadays anyway? _Ugh!_ This is completely ridiculous! What are the chances I'll bump into him again really? Next to none! Zilch! Zero. Nada. _Not_ going to happen. So, there. Ha!

"Sure, whatever," I answer when I realize I haven't given her a response yet, just as Serena says jokingly, "Boo, you whore."

We burst into giggles then at the reference. Leave it to Serena to make you forget about your worries, if only momentarily. I guess that's another not-so-secret secret between the three of us.

19. We love to quote Mean Girls, and it's even funnier when the people around us have no idea what we're going on about.


	4. Again

**A/N:** I know, I know. Chuck only makes a brief appearance in this chapter, but I promise you there will be a lot of him in the next. Blair has to go to work tomorrow, doesn't she? Anyway, please continue with the lovely reviews! They really inspire me to write. Also, the next chapter might be out a little later than usual. I only have three days of vacation left before I head back to Canada, so I'm going to enjoy it to the max. Happy reading!

**Again**

* * *

As we head over to the fashion show, I am feeling much more positive about today. After a considerably pleasant lunch with my parents, my mother and I had a spa day. Normally, she has these with Jenny, but seeing as Jenny is busy preparing for her oh-so-important fashion show tonight, I got to fill in for her. I'd be upset being the replacement and all, but honestly, what girl could resist a free spa day? That Thai massage was especially to die for. I definitely want to go back there sometime, but at $600 an hour, I probably won't. I mean, I _can_ afford it, but most of my pay checks already go towards paying my mother back and my share of the rent. I really don't have much extra money to spend. _God._ I'm so pathetic.

"Don't frown dear," my mother speaks up from beside me, peering out the window to see if we're there yet. "You'll get wrinkles."

"Some of us, mother, have emotions," I want to respond, but I don't, not wanting to ruin my relatively good mood (or hers for that matter).

I'll simply be the bigger person and ignore her, but as the limo finally pulls up to the curb, I can't help but feel a little self-conscious. I glance in the rear-view mirror and practice my smile. _Oh God._ What am I doing? Why do I even care so much? This is just some stupid little fashion show Jenny insists on putting on. How many people are going to be here anyway?

The moment I step out of the limo, my question is answered. Holy crap! Is _everyone _in Manhattan at this event tonight? Is the president here? I turn around then, wanting desperately to leave, _immediately_, but the limo is already gone. I look around frantically for the vehicle, but it has already driven off into the distance. _No!_ Take me with you! _Please!_

I take a deep breath. No worries, Blair. You can handle this, a little attention. I turn around. There are so many cameras everywhere, I note. I am almost blinded by the flashing lights, overwhelmed by the size of the crowd. My mother of course has walked ahead of me, my father on her arm, leaving me behind to fend for myself.

I watch her smile and wave to the adoring crowd, and I scoff. Honestly, you'd think we were at the goddamn Emmys or something and Neil Patrick Harris had just arrived. I mean, I know my mother is a fairly famous fashion designer, but she's no Coco Chanel, you know? _Oh my God._ Is that Lea Michele? How the _hell _did Jenny manage to get _celebrities _to come out and support her? Blackmail. That _has _to be it. There was no way any of them were _actually _here at their own free will.

As I'm wondering what Jenny could possibly have on Lea Michele, my clutch begins to vibrate.

"Hello?" I answer the phone, without even looking at the caller ID.

Is the use of mobile devices allowed on the red carpet? They certainly aren't allowed on flights, I muse. I glance around quickly to see if anyone is frowning at me, shaking their head in disbelief at my disregard for the rules. Nope, all clear, but then again, who the hell cares?

"Hey darling," Nate greets me from the other end of the line. "Has the fashion show started yet? I was just calling to see how you were holding up. I know Jenny isn't exactly your favourite person in the world."

Understatement of the year, Archibald.

"I'm actually about to walk the red carpet," I fill him in, noticing that my parents are already on the other end, about to enter the venue.

Great. Now I'll have to get there all by myself. What if I trip and fall in front of all these cameras, all these people? _Oh God._ The idea _alone _is causing me to panic a little. I can see the headline now: Read Carpet Etiquette: What _not _to do.

"Oh, sorry," he apologizes. "I'll talk to you later then. Are you coming over tonight?"

"Probably not," I reply, starting to get a little impatient with him. "The girls and I are having drinks after, so…"

"I get it," he finishes, cutting me off. "I'll see you at work tomorrow then, maybe. Love you."

"Yeah, you too," I say, quickly adding a 'darling' afterward to make him happy.

Only when I hang up the phone do I remember that I forgot to tell him that Lea Michele is here. Being a huge fan of Glee, Nate also happens to be a huge fan of _hers _of course. He'll be so disappointed that I didn't tell him earlier, but I couldn't possibly call him back now. If _he_ comes, so will his mother. I'd rather he be upset with me later, or I suppose I could not tell him at all. I mean, how would he know who was at the fashion show anyway?

Super. I'm rambling again (this time, thankfully, only in my mind), which means that I'm nervous, _very_ nervous. I smooth down the wrinkles of my dress and focus on the goal at hand: to walk down the red carpet without making a total fool of myself.

I've even prepared a little something already in case someone were ask me who I was or more importantly, what I thought of Jenny Humphrey (as a designer). I'll probably give the mom-approved answer to the second question, although what I'd really like to do is tell the whole world what a two-faced bitch she is. Who am I kidding? No one cares who _I_ am. My opinion doesn't matter, not here at least.

"Blair! Over here!" I hear a voice call out to me then and immediately, I feel a wave of relief washing over me.

At least I know this evening won't be a _complete _nightmare with my best friend by my side. Serena and I have had our fights, _believe me_, but at the end of the day, I know she'll always have my back, and me, hers.

"Serena!" I return excitedly, hugging her. "I'm so glad you're here. I feel _so _out of place."

"Nonsense," she chides me, taking my arm. "Come on Blair. You used to rock the 'I'm here. Now, worship me.' walk in high school, remember? Channel that superior attitude."

I laugh, forgetting where I am for a moment. She's absolutely right! I can do this! That girl I was back in high school has to still be in there somewhere. Channel her Blair! Channel that head-bitch-in-charge attitude!

"Over here ladies!" a voice shouts over the noise of the crowd and Serena and I pose for him, while he snaps a few photos. "Gorgeous!"

Serena giggles at his compliment as I'm tugging her along. I'm really starting to get the hang of this walking down the red carpet thing. My head is held high. I'm smiling at the adoring crowd, posing for the cameras. I am Blair Waldorf, daughter of Eleanor Waldorf. Worship me!

"Blair, Serena, lovely to see you," Jenny greets us as we arrive at the entrance, interrupting my moment.

I force a smile. Even the wicked bitch of the Upper East Side can't ruin my good mood tonight. I won't let her get to me.

"I'd like to return the sentiment Jenny," I start, causing her to grin at first. "But then I'd be lying."

She merely purses her lips and turns up her nose at me, but suddenly she's smiling wide again, looking behind me.

"Eleanor!" she exclaims, walking past me to greet my parents, bumping into my shoulder purposely along the way. "Harold! So glad you could make it!"

I keep my cool, biting my tongue to keep myself from saying anything I'll regret later. I mean, gag me. _Please._ She's so fucking fake and yet, almost everyone seems to fall for her bullshit. As I count off the many ways I could possibly kill Jenny Humphrey off in my head, Serena takes charge of the situation.

"Oh my _God_! Eleanor? Harold? Is that _you_? It has been too long!" she squeals, clearly mocking Jenny for my sake. "_Lovely_ to see you!"

My parents look at her, bewildered, completely caught off guard by her unusual enthusiasm. I stifle a giggle, while Jenny just frowns at my best friend. _Ha!_ Take that, you little brat.

"Nice to see you as well Serena," my father returns, while my mother wonders, "Are you still pursuing an acting career my dear? I don't recall seeing you in anything recently, or at all."

I swear making other people feel inferior is my mother's only goal in life. I'm about to defend my best friend, but she slants her eyes at me, silently asking me not to. She can handle herself.

"Yes," she answers, as cheerful as ever. "I'm only getting really small roles right now and a few commercial here and there, but I'm about to audition for the lead role in this new TV show on..."

"Yes, yes," my mother interrupts her, having lost interest. "That's very nice."

"It _is_," I speak up, unable to keep quiet any longer. "Especially since she's going to _get _that lead role and absolutely rock it."

"Yes, yes, of course," she comments, her tone no less patronizing than before.

_God._ Sometimes she makes me so mad. What did I do in my past life to deserve a mother like her? I mean, really.

"Well, anyway, I have a few things I need to take care of now, last minute details," Jenny mentions casually then (for me to hear of course). "You know how it is. Well, not _you_ Blair. I meant your mother."

"Of course I do," my mother responds, nodding for her to go on, leaving no room for me to comment. "You run along now darling. We're all very proud of you, aren't we Blair?"

I keep repeating one of the ten commandments in my head then. Thou shall not kill. Thou shall not kill. Thou shall not kill. That _is_ one of the ten commandments, right? I should really go to church more often.

"Absolutely," I answer her brightly, making a genuine effort to remind myself how important family is. "Can't wait to see the show!"

"Of course you can't," she murmurs in my ear, but before I can retort (or preferably, slap her upside the head), she walks away.

I am _so_ going to tell her off later. She is _really _getting on my last nerve tonight, pushing limits.

"It is _so_ nice to see you and Jenny getting along so well still after all these years," my mother mentions (much to my dismay), as we all take our seats in front of the runway. "She's _always _talking about how you're like a sister to her, you know."

_Great._ Well, I swear that _one _of these days I'll tell her off, you know, when the time is right, when it won't disappoint my mother.

"You should really be more supportive of her Blair," she adds, as the lights begin to dim. "She's even offered to help you get a job in the fashion industry should you ever need one. What a wonderful girl, always has you in mind."

Oh, so is _that_ why she rejected my application to work for her that one time? I would never have done it in a million years, but I was desperate. I had just been let go at my job and couldn't find work elsewhere, you know, with the failing economy and all.

It would only have been temporary, I made sure she knew, but she rejected me anyway, assuring me that she would keep my application (and my sketches) on file should she ever need a creative partner for one of her future lines. I walked away that day completely and utterly humiliated. I still am.

Lord knows I've never told anyone about the incident, especially not my parents. I would absolutely _die _if they ever found out. Well, I suppose there _is_ one person who knows what happened that day besides me and Jenny, but he doesn't really count, since I won't ever see him again. _Never, ever._

"Yeah, well, maybe you should be more supportive of your own daughter," Serena hisses in my ear supportively just as the show begins.

Her first few dresses are mediocre at best, I observe, but as each new model appears on the runway, they become more and more impressive. I mean, I hate her and everything, but even _I_ can't deny that she has some raw talent. I glance at Serena then and I can tell that she agrees with me too, although she would never say it to my face. That's the kind of kick-ass best friend she is.

Suddenly, the lights become a shade of dark purple and I know she's about to showcase her best piece, probably the one that bagged that award for her. Everyone in the room is holding their breath in anticipation now and I realize after a moment that I am too. When the last model appears through a thin veil of smoke and struts down the runway however, all I want to do is scream, cry, _throw_ something!

I am in absolute shock. There, on the runway, on that model, is _my_ dress, _my_ design. I pinch myself, taking a quick look around the venue. Nope. Everything is still as it is. There is a standing ovation, people are applauding, and that back-stabbing wench is walking out now, taking a bow for _my_ work. _My work!_ As old feelings of humiliation start to resurface, I can't help but react.

Standing up and gripping tightly onto Serena's arm, I shout over the thundering crowd, "That's _my_ dress S! _She stole my design!_"

She turns to look at me, confusion swimming in her eyes.

"_What?_ What are you talking about B?" she clarifies, taking my hand and dragging me to a secluded corner of the venue where we won't be overheard.

"That's _my_ design!" I repeat, my eyes starting to sting now. "That was one of the designs I gave to her when I applied for a job with her that one time!"

I'm so furious right now, I don't even care if my best friend finds out about how desperate I was, how pathetic I _am_.

"Tell me everything B," she urges, taking both of my hands in hers in encouragement.

I take a deep breath, blinking back my tears. Breathe, Blair. _Breathe._

"Well, after I lost my job with Bernstein Publications, I was desperate S," I start, unable to look at her directly. "I knew Jenny was looking for a creative partner to help her with her new line at the time, so I sketched out a few designs and applied for a job with her, you know? She ended up rejecting me of course, promising me that she would keep my application and sketches on file for and I quote 'future employment opportunities'. It was _so_ humiliating!"

Serena hands me a tissue from her purse then, coaxing me to dry my tears, but I push her away. Normally, I'm a _lot _stronger than this. I honestly have no idea why I'm blubbering like an idiot right now.

Eventually, after I regain control of my emotions, I turn to face my best friend again. She looks absolutely livid, even more so than I do.

"Making opportunities for yourself Blair is _nothing _to be embarrassed about," she assures me, still holding my hands in hers. "I know how hard it must have been to go to Jenny for help and I know going to your mother would have been an even more unviable option, but _please_ tell me you plan to do something about this. You _have _to expose her B!"

"I can't," I whisper, silently wondering why this shit always happens to me.

It's not that I don't _want _to expose her, but exposing her would mean having to tell my mother what I'd just told Serena, which I'm really not ready to do. I just _know _she'll take Jenny's side no matter what I say, so what's the point really?

"Ok," Serena reasons, trying to be patient with me. "I understand why you might be hesitant B, but she's in there right now taking credit for _your _work. She's in there right now accepting an award that should be _yours_, that _you_ deserve!"

"I know that S! Don't you think I know that!" I shout before lowering my voice, not wanting to alarm the people passing by.

"You wouldn't have stood by and done nothing Blair if we were back at Constance right now!" Serena yells in response, beyond frustrated with me now. "You would have exposed her, gotten your revenge. Get a backbone B! Are you seriously going to continue letting her walk all over you? Are you seriously going to let her _win_?"

I'm taken aback by her words for a moment, completely shocked. Serena doesn't lose her cool very often, but when she does, you know she's really upset about something. I hate to admit it, but she's right. Somewhere between high school and now, I mellowed out. I started to put things into perspective, became more forgiving. Maybe I've taken this whole taking-everything-in-stride thing too far.

"But I can't prove the design is mine," I remind her, stating the obvious, more confident now. "How am I going to expose her?"

"The three of us can figure that out together later, but you need to confront her _now_," Serena demands, hands on her hips.

My head is spinning. I can't even think straight.

"_No_," I insist, my voice firm. "I can't say anything, not right now."

"_Blair!_" I hear her protest just as expected.

"If I say something _now_," I clarify, putting up my hand to stop her. "I'll be giving her a chance to destroy whatever evidence there is of that dress being my design. I mean, I know my parents aren't going to believe me anyway, but without any proof, I can't even prove them wrong."

"What makes you think she hasn't already?" Serena inputs, lips pursed in thought. "Destroyed all the evidence I mean."

"If she has, she has, but if she hasn't, I'd be giving her a heads up," I deduce logically.

"So, what's the plan then?" she asks me, finally understanding my point of view.

"Short term? Meeting up with Penelope for drinks and filling her in on this. Long term? Finding a way to prove that that dress is mine and taking that poser _down_," I finish, looking forward now to exposing her.

Serena smiles proudly, taking my arm, "So, the bitch is back?"

"She never left," I simply answer, heading towards the exit, ready to leave, but something, or rather some_one_ stops me then.

_Oh. Dear. God._ This is _seriously _not my week, is it?

"It's the man from the plane," I hiss, ducking behind a pillar, taking Serena with me.

"Oh my gosh!" Serena shouts a little too loudly. "_Where?_"

I signal for her to hush, but I'm too late. He catches my eye. Maybe he won't recognize me, but the twinkle in his eyes is telling me otherwise. Please don't come over here. _Please don't come over here._

"Blair, right?" he questions with a smirk, joining us.

Shit. Shit. _Shit._

"Uh, hello again," I say, absolutely mortified that this is happening to me. "Chuck, right?"

"Yes," he responds before addressing Serena. "Serena I suppose?"

I can hear my confessions running through my head. I told him about my lesbian dream! I told him what she _looks _like! Oh sweet baby Jesus! Me and my big mouth.

"Uh, yes," Serena confirms, shaking his hand. "Did Blair mention me?"

"Once or twice," he admits, glancing at me, smirk still in place.

He's teasing me. I could just _die_.

"Are you a friend of Jenny's?" Serena asks to be polite, mostly to cover for my non-responsiveness.

"Jenny?" he repeats, confused.

"The designer?" she clarifies for him.

He looks at me then and I can see him putting two and two together.

"…_She moved in with us when she was 10 after her parents both died in a car crash…I swear she only showed an interest in fashion to make me look bad in front of my mom…"_

No. No. _No._ This can_not_ be happening!

"Ah," he says, clearly amused, more so than he already is. "I see. Uh, no. I'm actually a friend's plus one tonight. We're just here to try our luck with the models, but now that you're here…"

He trails off with a wink and Serena giggles. _Ugh._ Only she would find him charming. It's probably that British accent of his. British accents can make anything sound charming.

Besides, what happened to Mr. Workaholic from the plane? Maybe this is what he's really like without his fancy suit and tie, in which case, double _ugh_. He's trouble with a capital 'T'. I just know it.

"So, are you still here on business?" I manage to ask, _needing _to know.

I'm seriously considering changing my identity at this point and relocating to Maui.

"Yeah, I'm in New York for the next week actually," he informs me with a shrug. "But who knows? I might stay a little longer. I find this city intriguing, _especially _the people."

Of course he does, like the _models_, not that I care or anything of course. It's none of _my _business.

"_Really?_ Wonderful," I respond already pulling Serena away. "Maybe I'll see you around then."

_Not._ I'll just take the week off from work and hide out in the apartment. That way I won't run the risk of bumping into him again. _Ugh!_ This is insane! What am I even saying?

"I hope so," I hear him murmur as we leave, but I might have heard him wrong, probably.

I sneak one last look at him (although I have no idea why) as Serena hails down a cab for us, but he's already moved on, blending in with the crowd again. I scoff, taking notice of the tall blonde on his arm now, probably one of those models he was trying his luck with and _would _get lucky with. What a pig.

Men like him really make me appreciate what I have. Nate is such a gentleman. I've said it before and I'll say it again, I am _so _lucky to have him.


	5. Shit

**A/N:** I came home from vacation yesterday evening to find graffiti all over my house and much more. The crime was personal, and my sister was the victim. Before I end up boring you with my personal life though, I wanted to thank everyone for their kind words after I posted the author's note, which I have now deleted. I will definitely continue with this story and again, I give full credit to Sophie Kinsella where it is due. Should you have a little time to spare, please do leave me with a review, positive or negative. I can take criticism, but just be nice about it. Thanks and enjoy.

**Shit**

* * *

Seven o'clock in the morning and I, Blair Waldorf, am running down the street in my stilettos, completely out of breath. Normally, I would still be in bed at this time, but Nelly called me this morning, telling me that I just _had _to get to work immediately for something or another. I had hung up by then though, too late for her explanation. I didn't even have breakfast this morning. Whatever is happening at the office, it better be important, or I _will _go into full bitch mode.

As I approach the Bass Industries building, I can already see the crowd beyond the double doors. What the hell is going on? I push my way through the crowd only to find that everyone is simply waiting for the elevators. Some people, tired of waiting, are choosing to take the stairs instead. Fuck that. I'm not walking up nine flights of stairs in _these _heels.

I catch a waving hand in the corner of my eye then and spot Nelly, dorky glasses and all.

"You want to tell me what's going on here?" I ask, beyond curious now.

This _better _be good.

"Weren't you listening to me this morning? The CEO is coming in today!" she whispers excitedly as we try to pile into the next available elevator. "Apparently, he'll be here all week."

Full. Damn it.

"The CEO?" I repeat, before complaining, "_He's_ the reason I'm coming in for work early today? I hate him already."

"Actually," Nelly corrects me, readjusting her glasses on the bridge of her nose. "_Carter _is the one to blame for that. He wants to brief us in the meeting room before Mr. Bass arrives."

And then, I'm laughing because I'm getting a good mental picture of Carter totally losing his shit upstairs. His breakdowns are always fun to watch. He always looks a bit like a crazed owl during those moments.

"Yeah, full on crazed owl alert," Nelly assures me, knowing full well what I'm laughing about. "He's already had about ten cups of coffee. Dan had to cut him off, even at the risk of being fired. Carter was absolutely livid with him."

"Nice to know," I say, not even trying to pretend like I wouldn't have enjoyed seeing Dan being yelled at.

Dan Humphrey takes the word 'ego' to a whole new level, and no, he's not related to Jenny, despite the last name. Anyway, he thinks he's better than everyone in the department just like that show-off Vanessa Abrams (uh huh, the one whose coffee I spit into on a daily basis), so it's no surprise that they've been best friends since college.

Nelly and I are always saying how thankful we are that those two aren't dating. By the off chance that they _should _ever fall in love and get married though, I hope they have enough sense to not have children. Their offspring would be absolutely unbearable, like _ridiculously _unbearable.

Another vacant elevator arrives at the ground floor then, the one right in front of Nelly and I, and we exchange a grateful look. A few more minutes and we would have missed the briefing and subsequently, been fired, although I was expecting to get fired today anyway. I mean, let's be real here. There is no way the CEO of Desire didn't tell my boss about what happened at that meeting. Maybe I'll get lucky though and Carter will only put me on probation for awhile.

There is idle chatter in the elevator as we step inside. There always is, and as usual, I'm not paying the gossip any mind, but hearing the name Chuck among the gibber suddenly causes me to become more alert. Maybe I heard wrong. Maybe someone said 'fuck' or 'duck' or 'luck'. I'm listening intently now, trying to catch whatever Vanessa and Dan are talking about a few feet away from me. Believe me. If I had noticed them getting onto the elevator as well earlier, I would have taken the next one.

"I hope I get to have a one-on-one with him," I hear Dan say, unsurprisingly. "That would be _amazing_, life-changing even."

They're probably talking about another Chuck. I mean, I have a hard time believing that _that _Chuck is the CEO of Bass Industries. I think those monthly staff newsletters we get at the office might have a photo or two of our CEO on the front, but I usually throw those out without reading them. Now, I sort of wish I had. No worries though, since I'm pretty sure that they're talking about another Chuck anyway. It's a fairly common name after all.

Vanessa nods in complete agreement, adding, "He is _such _an inspiration. Sure, he inherited the company from his father, but deciding to switch from real estate to the alcohol industry? What a risky move. I would never have done it. It's like he had a vision and just _went _with it, you know?"

Ugh. _Could _he be the CEO of Bass Industries? No. I'm completely freaking myself out. Besides, his last name wasn't Bass. _Shit._ He didn't _mention _a last name.

"Who cares?" interrupts some brunette from the human resources department. "I hear he's super hot, has a British accent too, and the best part? He's _single_."

_British _accent? Oh fuck. Wait, I'm sure there are plenty of Chuck's in the world with a British accent or at least more than _one_. Surely this one isn't the man from the plane. I mean, what are the chances? Then again, I bumped into him last night, and I never thought that _that _would have ever been possible.

"Of _course _he's single," Hazel speaks up from beside her as the elevator heads to the ninth floor. "He's a _total _womanizer. I can't imagine him being in a fully committed relationship anytime soon, or _ever _for that matter."

"I'd do him anyway," the human resources girl informs the rest of us, as a few other girls nod in agreement, the men rolling their eyes.

_Womanizer?_ I am suddenly reminded of the tall blonde I saw on his arm as he left last night. Oh no. This cannot _seriously _be happening to me. Wake up Blair! This is only a nightmare! _Wake up!_

But the sound of the elevator doors opening and a really pissed off Carter standing there to greet us tells me that this is all, indeed, very real.

"Good morning," I mumble, completely depressed, as several of us pile out of the lift.

We all scramble quickly to the meeting room, too scared to even drop by our desks first.

"Where the _fuck _have you people been!" Carter rages from behind us. "Get your asses into the meeting room _now _or you're all fired!"

_Jesus._

As we all take our seats, most of us are still half asleep, except for Dan and Vanessa of course. _God._ Why can't I have more tolerable colleagues? Heck! I feel like spitting in _Dan's _coffee too today.

"As you all know," Carter begins, pacing back and forth at the front of the room, wringing his hands together anxiously. "_The _Chuck Bass is coming in today, so today is _not _the day for any of you to fuck up. You make me look bad in front of the CEO and I _will _fire your ass the moment he leaves. Am I understood?"

Uh, crazed owl alert.

We all nod because we know he's actually very serious when it comes to threatening us, but honestly, what ever happened to employee rights? This has to be categorized as harassment of some sort, not that any of us would port him anyway. I mean, we all _need _these jobs. The economy has improved somewhat, but the competition in the job market has sky rocketed. People are younger, more qualified, harder working. It's annoying.

I glance around the room then, tuning out, trying to see if I can find a picture of our CEO somewhere in the room. Until I actually _see _him and verify with my own eyes that he's really _that _Chuck, I'm not going to stress over it. Why stress over something that has like a 0.0000000001% chance of happening? There seriously cannot be _that _many coincidences in the world.

"Blair," I suddenly hear Carter address me. "Is there any particular reason you're still sitting there, staring off into space?"

I look up, noting for the first time that everyone has already left the room. _Great._

"Thinking of ways to make you look good in front of Mr. Bass?" I suggest, getting up to leave.

"Yeah, nice try," Carter mutters, heading out first. "Get back to your desk and get to work."

Right away, your royal highness.

But I stop in my tracks. _Oh wait._

"Carter?" I call after him, following him into his office. "Actually, could I talk to you for a moment?"

He doesn't tell me to get the fuck out of his office, so I go ahead.

"I was wondering," I start, hesitant. "Did the CEO of Desire tell you about our meeting?"

"You mean the one you screwed up?" he clarifies, typing something into his computer.

_Shit._ He probably forgot all about it over the weekend, but now that I've brought it up, I'm _so _fired. I'm going to be unemployed again, desperate for work. I'm not asking Jenny for help this time around though. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on _me_. I could probably get a job at Starbucks, and sadly, I'm only half kidding.

"I am _really _sorry Carter," I say, trying to save my ass. "I just panicked."

He stops what he's doing then and looks at me for a moment before telling me, "I'm not going to fire you Blair. I blame myself. I should have never given you such a huge responsibility."

Wait. _What?_ Oh no. Now I'm never going to be promoted! I mean, I suppose I should just be grateful that I get to keep my job, but I was really hoping to become a marketing executive this year!

"Carter, I can do better next time. I promise. I almost had him. In fact, I _know _I would have been able to reel him in had I avoided that little accident," I assure him, hoping he'll reconsider.

"Uh huh," he muses, uninterested in what I have to say. "Well, I'll think about it, but you should really learn a thing or two from Vanessa. Now _that _girl knows how to handle herself around the office, an absolute professional, the gem of this department."

Ok. Vanessa is now officially on my shit list (not that she wasn't already). I swear on my life that that girl will be scrubbing my toilets with her head one day.

"Of course," I answer, not wanting to damage my 'future employment opportunities'.

"You can go now," he informs me without so much as glancing in my direction.

I nod, heading back to my desk, but then I remember.

"One more thing," I add, apologetically. "What about my review?"

I totally forgot I was supposed to have my review today. Every year, we all get a one-on-one with Carter. He tells us how we've been doing, how we can improve, that sort of thing. Each time, one or two of us in the department is usually promoted. I was hoping this would be my year, but I've probably already messed that up, unless some miracle were to happen. In all honesty, I think I _deserve _to be promoted. I've worked _super _hard this year! Maybe I just need to remind Carter of that.

I mean, I've even been fetching coffee for the department (which is _so _not in my job description by the way). That has to count for something, right? I've practically held down two jobs for the past year, but for _one _pay check. Ever since the departmental secretary quit, Carter hasn't hired someone else. He keeps telling me he's getting someone soon, but I know he's not. Why pay someone when he can just get me to pick up the slack?

"Your review?" he questions, and believe me, he looks really irritated. "Chuck Bass is visiting our department today and you're thinking about your review? Get out."

I stand there for a moment, unable to move. Does he have to be so angry all the time? I don't even regret breaking his favourite mug now. World's Best Boss? _Puh-lease._

"Blair, get the hell out of my office!" he shouts, when he notices that I'm still standing there.

"Oh right," I mumble, heading out. "Sorry."

So, I guess I won't be getting my review today after all. I suppose that's not a _bad _thing. I can work on how to plead my case to Carter tomorrow about getting a promotion. I mean, I'm sure that if I make some valid points, he'll give me one. He's short-tempered, but not unreasonable (I think).

As I seat myself at my desk, I notice that everyone is preparing for our CEO's arrival. Vanessa is polishing the many marketing awards lining her desk. Dan is scribbling furiously on his white board. I think I spot the word 'multi-logistics' somewhere in there. Hazel is reapplying her makeup as are several other female employees in the department. Is all of this _really _necessary?

I quickly survey my desk for a moment, wondering if I should tidy it up a bit. Oh, why the hell not? I throw out a candy wrapper near my keyboard and put a few stray items back in their proper place before reaching for my makeup bag. Wait. What am I doing? _No makeup bag._ So the CEO is visiting the department (and he might be the man from the plane). _Who cares?_

I'm just going to sit back, relax, and send an email to Nate to apologize for last night. I didn't end up calling him. I would have, but by the time we had finished plotting to bring Jenny down, I'd forgotten.

My email plans are ruined, however, when Carter suddenly sticks his head out of his office and yells, "Mr. Bass will arrive in approximately ten minutes. I'm going to be in my office until then. I'm not fucking around with you folks. Embarrass me and you _will _pay for it later."

His words seems to sink in because everyone is starting to panic. Dan is scrambling to finish whatever he's doing on his white board. Vanessa is turning her computer on now, tapping her foot impatiently against the carpeted floor of the office, and Hazel has even managed to jab her mascara brush into her eye in her haste. _Oh God._ What should _I_ be doing?

No. This is _insane_! I simply _cannot _sit here at my desk for the next ten minutes wondering whether Mr. Bass is Chuck. Maybe I'll sneak out to the elevators. If I peer over the railing, I'll be able to catch a glimpse of him coming into the building. That way I'll be able to put my mind at rest. Even if the CEO of Bass Industries really _does _turn out to be the man from the plane, at least I'll have some time to prepare for his arrival. I could reapply my makeup, you know, out of respect.

As I'm peering over the railing, waiting anxiously for his arrival, I suddenly hear a voice say, "Looking for me?"

I swivel around to find _the _Chuck standing before me. Oh _crap_. There really _are _that many coincidences in the world.

"Mr. Bass," I greet him, clearing my throat, trying to act professional. "Welcome to the marketing department."

"So, you're going to pretend you don't know me on a more personal level now?" he wonders, taking a step closer to me.

I take a step back in response, my eyes flitting back towards the office. Does Carter know that Chuck is here yet? What would he think of _this_?

"Are you afraid I'll tell everyone your secrets Blair?" he asks, now one step even closer.

Seriously. Has he ever heard of personal space? I take another step back, _my _back hitting the railing now.

"Those weren't secrets," I huff, my nose turned up. "I don't care if anyone finds out about those things I told you."

"Oh really?" he challenges me, leaning in close, and I feel my breath catch in my throat. "So, it would be alright if I went to find Nate right now and told him that you think he has terrible taste in lingerie?"

"How did you know that Nate works here or that I do for that matter?" I accuse him, taking a step forward, and pushing him back. "Are you _stalking _me?"

"If that's what turns you on," he responds, smirking.

I roll my eyes and give him another shove. Once a womanizer, always a womanizer.

"You know, just for that alone, I could sue you for sexual harassment," I inform him, a deadly serious look in my eyes.

He just laughs at my threat.

"You could, but you won't," he assures me, as if he knows me better than I know myself. "In all seriousness though, I had no idea you and Nate were employed at Bass Industries until a few hours ago when I received a list of the departments I would be visiting and their personnel."

"Right," I mutter, trying to walk past him. "I have to get back to work now."

He extends his arm to stop me and asks, "How about we go out for drinks later?"

"Not in this lifetime," I bite out, pushing his arm away.

He doesn't try to stop me this time, merely calling after me, "Come on! Just for business. You could tell me what the people in your department are really like."

I turn around to face him again, lips pursed, contemplating.

"What do you mean?" I question, eyeing him carefully.

"You really expect me to believe that I'm about to walk in there and everyone is just going to act _natural _around me?" he muses, eyebrow raised.

Well, no, but I'm not about to tell him he's right.

"Why not?" I retort, my tone cold, indifferent. "_I_ act natural around you, don't I? You may be the CEO of this company, but at the end of the day, you're just like the rest of us: human."

"Beauty and brains," he comments, and I wait in anticipation for him to come closer, but he doesn't.

I don't really know if I'm disappointed or not.

"You continue to surprise me Miss Waldorf," he finishes, just as I walk away.

Yeah, and _you _continue to show up everywhere and make my life a living hell.

"Did you see Mr. Bass out there?" Carter questions as he rushes by me, his tie flying over his shoulder.

If I wasn't still so dazed by my encounter with Chuck, I probably would have found it hilarious.

"Uh, yeah," I mumble, shouting after him. "I didn't even talk to him though, so don't worry!"

I return to my desk, just wanting to concentrate on my work now. So, he _is _the CEO after all. Who cares? He'll be gone in a week and we don't even have to acknowledge each other at work. No one we'll even know we've ever met. I mean, I don't think he'll tell anyone my secrets. What would he have to gain from that besides seeing me suffer? Then again…

Suddenly, I see a head hovering above me. I look up to see Dan leaning over the top of my cubicle.

"You were out there alone with Mr. Bass and you didn't even _introduce _yourself? A one-on-one with him could do _wonders _for your career Blair! Your life! _Are you out of your mind?_" he shouts, and I can already see Vanessa coming over to join us out of the corner of my eye.

Yeah, being alone with him has _really _done wonders for my life Humphrey.

"You _really _didn't say a single word to him?" Vanessa asks, casting a suspicious glance in my direction.

"Some of us aren't so desperate to climb the corporate ladder," I offer and her face falls momentarily.

"Not all of us have what it takes to climb it," she retorts, and my blood is really boiling now.

"Well, _you _certainly don't," I answer with a smile before getting up and escaping to the staff room, leaving a shocked Dan in my wake, and an even more pissed off Vanessa.

I lean against the counter to take a moment for myself. That felt _amazing_. I should insult her to her face more often, maybe take that ego of hers down a notch or two. In fact, I feel like making her a cup of coffee. I walk out of the staff room later, a smug smile on my face, coffee á la spit in hand. As usual, she barely notices when I slip the coffee onto her desk. She prefers not to bark at me to get it anyway.

"As you know, the marketing department is one of the most important divisions of the company," I hear Carter say before I can witness Vanessa taking the first sip.

"Of course," comes the standard reply.

"We have some of the brightest, most wonderful employees around," my boss adds, and I roll my eyes.

Brightest, most wonderful employees around? Oh _please_. He refers to us as a bunch of dipshits on a two hour basis.

"I don't doubt that," Chuck answers, casting a glance in my direction.

I smile because he seems sincere.

"And here's one of our marketing assistants, Blair Waldorf," Carter introduces me, shooting me a warning look to be at my best.

"Pleasure," he simply says, extending a hand.

He's pretending he doesn't know me. Thank you God.

"Likewise," I return, smiling.

Carter shuffles him along, still uptight as ever.

"And this is the treasure of our department, Vanessa Abrams," he introduces her, as she gives Chuck a flirty smile, shaking his hand.

Ugh. _As if._

"Vanessa Abrams," he contemplates, evidently trying to remember what I said about her on the flight. "Is that a new computer?"

"_...awful colleague named Vanessa. The other day, there was a new computer up for grabs and she just took it, even though my crappy computer is practically falling apart…"_

Does he remember _everything_?

"Uh, yes," Vanessa responds, curious as to why he'd ask such a random question. "Thanks for noticing."

Oh God. He's looking at the cup of coffee in her hands now. I _just _spit into that!

"How's the coffee?" Chuck wonders, stealing a look at me, and I can feel my cheeks turning red, _bright _red.

"_...only when she really pisses me off, which is practically every day. The coffee at work tastes awful anyway..."_

"Dan! Get Mr. Bass a cup of coffee. _Now!_" he commands, as Dan shoots off to the staff room immediately.

"That's not necessary," Chuck informs him, stifling a laugh. "I just heard that the coffee in this department is the best in the company. You know, like there's a little something _extra _in there."

I remain silent, but now, I'm no longer embarrassed. I'm glaring at him. _Hard._

"Anyway, I actually have a few things I need to take care of right now," he mentions, apologetically. "You are doing a great job with the department Carter and keep up the good work everyone."

And with that, he's off, and I can breathe a sigh of relief, except twenty minutes later, I get a phone call.

"Miss Waldorf?"

A woman's voice. I was worried for nothing.

"Mr. Bass would like to see you in his temporary office. He's on the 13th floor."

_Crap._

"Oh, do you have an idea what about?" I question, and rightfully so.

"Something about your resume I believe," she answers, as monotone as ever.

"…_I lied about my previous job experience to land this job. I have never had any experience in marketing…"_

I sigh. _Super_, and the week of torture continues.


	6. Spark

**A/N:** Thank you again for all your wonderful reviews. For those of you who review anonymously, should you want a reply, please leave me with a way to contact you because I do want to thank you for taking the time to leave me a comment. Also, for your information, I have never updated a story as quickly as I have this one. Enjoy! Oh and side note (for those of you who are out of the loop): I have finally updated Death By Design.

**Spark**

* * *

"Where do you think you're going?" I hear Vanessa question, blocking my path as I get up from my desk.

Her hands are on her hips. She's eyeing me suspiciously and for a split second I feel like a child, my hand having been caught in the cookie jar.

"None of your business," I say, making a move to pass her, but she sidesteps to block me once again.

I huff in frustration. I will not bitch slap my colleague. I will not bitch slap my colleague. _I will not bitch slap my colleague._

"Get out of my way," I seethe and I am seriously not playing around right now.

I have a Chuck Bass problem to deal with, so I really don't need her to pile on.

"Not until you tell me where you're going," she tells me, unwilling to move. "You're going up to his office, aren't you? I can smell your desperation from half a mile away."

She didn't need to mention his name for both of us to know whose office she was referring to.

"Oh sweetie," I tell her kindly, although I'm staring her down. "That would be _your _stench stinking up the building. Everyone knows you wear desperation like a perfume. Don't deny it."

I swear I see bubbles forming in the corner of her mouth. Even better. Go ahead Vanessa! Make my day.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" Hazel exclaims suddenly from behind us, dispelling the tension from the air. "Vanessa, go and sit your ass down. What Blair does is frankly none of your business. Why do you have to be so goddamn nosy all the time? Just in case you're dying to know, I'm on my way to the bathroom and please, don't follow me."

I stifle a giggle as Vanessa gives Hazel a look of distaste before returning to her desk. I'm about to thank the blonde for her help, but she's already gone. Maybe I'll treat her to lunch later.

I quickly make my way over to the elevators then, wasting no time, lest someone stop me again. Jabbing the button with my finger, I will the elevator to come a little faster. _Ding!_ Yes! Finally! _Hallelujah!_

Thankfully, the elevator is empty as I step inside. I press 13 and tap my foot against the floor impatiently. Now, I'm not usually an impatient person, but could this elevator go any slower? 10. Progress. 11. Almost there. 12. _Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!_ 13. Thank you God!

I fly out the doors as they open, eager to get out of the lift. I suddenly remember the reason he asked me up here though and I feel faint. Chuck knows that I lied on my resume to get this job and now, he's going to fire me for it. Shit.

Then again, he has thousands of employees, doesn't he? So, one employee lied on her resume. What's the big deal? Why would he even care? I mean, his company's not going bankrupt because of me or anything as equally drastic as that. He'll probably just give me a slap on wrist, a warning, before telling me to get back to my desk. Yeah, that's right.

I spot the secretary then and smile at her, one she doesn't return, not in the least bit. This must be Ms. Monotone from the phone. She motions for me to come forward and I do as I'm told.

"He'll see you now," she says and the concern in her voice scares me a little.

Oh God. What if he _does_ care? I am _so_ fired, but then, it comes to me. _Ugh._ Maybe he's called me up here just to attempt to get into my pants, or skirt, or whatever. He's a womanizer after all and I am a woman, aren't I? _Duh._ Of course you are Blair.

"Come in," I hear him say as I knock on the double doors once, not even daring to knock again.

I take a deep breath before walking in, an air of confidence around me, although I'm slightly nervous on the inside. _Wow._ So this is what a proper office looks like.

"Blair, what a lovely surprise," he greets me, evidently starting to toy with me already.

"Uh, you were the one who called me up here?" I remind him, trying hard to remain emotionless.

He gives me a once over then, as if really seeing me for the first time today, and I curl my lips in displeasure to let him know exactly how I feel about his gesture. He hardly notices the action and continues.

"You know, you should _probably _be nicer to me," he tells me, getting up from behind his desk and walking over to me. "I _am _the head of this company after all."

I scoff. Yeah, daddy must be proud.

"Really?" I challenge him, sending him a warning glare to not come any closer to me. "Could have fooled me."

Chuck laughs, ignoring my silent demand, making me even more irritated with him than I already am.

"Look, can we just get this over with and end this torture?" I ask, really not in the mood for his nonsense. "I lied on my resume. I'm fired. I get it. I'll go clear out my desk now."

"Whoa, hold on," Chuck stops me, running over to stand in my way. "I'm not firing you. In fact, I quite like having you as an employee. I don't care if you lied on your resume, although I think lying about speaking fluent French and Spanish might have crossed the line a little."

"I _do _speak fluent French and Spanish for your information and do you always hit on your employees Mr. Bass?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer.

"No actually," he responds, much to my surprise. "I don't really like to involve myself in office affairs, too messy, but I would be willing to make an exception for you."

"You're heinous," I inform him and he only looks amused at the sentiment, obviously taking it as a compliment.

"You know, the more you resist me, the more intriguing I find you," he confesses, and I stand there for a moment, not knowing how to react.

"Please," I finally enlighten him, pushing him out of the way. "You don't find me intriguing. You just see me as a challenge. You're not interested in _me_. You're interested in _sleeping _with me, so that you can add me to your long list of conquests."

"A little judgemental of you, don't you think?" I hear him say quietly, causing me to stop in my tracks and turn around.

"What?" I echo, noting the change in mood in the room.

"You don't know me," he clarifies, louder this time for me to hear. "You're just like everyone else. You think you do, but you don't."

I roll my eyes. Does he actually expect me to take him _seriously_?

"So, what? You're not a womanizer now?" I question him, looking him straight in the eyes, _daring _him to lie to me.

"I'll admit that I am, but I'm a lot of things Blair," he insists, coming closer until we're mere inches apart. "No one is just _one _thing. Take you for example. Sure, you're beautiful, you're smart, but you're also stubborn and slowly becoming a huge pain in my ass."

"Likewise," I make sure he knows, not letting him get to me, although I do sort of see his point.

"But you agree with what I'm saying, don't you?" he observes, smirking again. "I can see it in your eyes."

"_You don't know me_," I mock him and of course, he ignores me again, moving on.

"You're right. I don't, and you don't know me either, not really. So, how about we get to know each other better over drinks tonight?" he suggests like he had earlier, his signature smirk still in place.

_Ugh._ He's impossible! How can a person be so fucking persistent? Does he not take no for an answer?

"Do you have short term memory loss or something? I told you before and I'll say it again, _not in this lifetime_," I remind him, walking away from him for the umpteenth time.

"Fine, your loss," he says, seemingly giving up, heading back towards his desk. "But before you leave, aren't you at all curious as to the real reason why I called you up here?"

"Alright, so what did you call me up here for really?" I play along, waiting for his answer.

I'll humour him. I've got the time.

He shrugs.

"I don't know," he responds, sitting down and opening up a newspaper on his desk. "I just wanted to see you."

He wanted to _see _me? How am I supposed to feel about that? I remain silent, watching him from where I'm standing, trying to figure out whether or not this is simply another little game of his. It frustrates me so much constantly having so many questions floating around in my head when I'm around him. Is he being serious? Is he _actually _interested in me? How many times has he used _that _line on a girl before? He is seriously giving the term 'mind fuck' a whole new meaning.

"Uh huh," I start, hesitant. "Well, now that you have, I'll go now."

"Please just let me leave", I beg him silently.

"Blair?" he calls after me.

_Damn it. _

I have one foot out the door, so this time, I don't look back.

"I'll be waiting for you at Desire tonight," he informs me. "Eight o'clock sharp. I'm not leaving until you show up."

I know he wants to meet up at Desire only because he knows what I did to the CEO the other day. What an asshole.

"You can wait as long as you want Mr. Bass," I finish, attempting to sound as professional as possible. "But I _won't _be coming."

20. I am secretly considering showing up, you know, for business reasons.

* * *

I walk into my apartment, completely exhausted from the stressful day I've just had. After that session in his office, we never saw each other again, which was more than fine by me of course, except his face kept popping into my head every five seconds. _Ugh._

"Rough day?" Serena offers, noticing how tired I am.

"You have _no _idea," I assure her as she comes over to join me on the couch. "The CEO of Bass Industries visited our department today. Guess who?"

Serena purses her lips in thought at first, but then her eyes widen and I know she's figured it out.

"_Chuck?_" she squeals in delight, hands clasped tightly together. "He is _so _sexy and that accent! _Phew!_"

I roll my eyes as she pretends to fan herself from the heat. Well, at least _one _of us is thrilled about his presence at the office.

"Yes and the worst part? He'll be here all week," I inform her before adding, "Oh and he is so _not _sexy."

Immediately, I feel myself biting my lip. Curse these bad habits! Luckily enough, Serena hasn't quite picked up on this one yet.

"B, don't even lie," she scoffs, giving me a look of absolute disbelief. "You know he's _fine_. If you weren't dating prince charming already, you'd be all over that. I know I would."

"Fine, then you go meet him at Desire tonight for drinks," I retort, grabbing my purse and heading for my room in a huff.

Her eyes widen again and she gets up to follow me, leaning against the doorframe of my room, probably to stop me from escaping her questioning this time around.

"He asked you _out_?" Serena clarifies, the excitement in her voice noticeably missing. "You said no, right? I mean, as good looking as he is, you have a _boyfriend _B."

"I know that," I answer, taking a seat on the bed. "But he _did _mention that it would only be for business."

"Yeah, funny business," Penelope interrupts us, coming into my room, joining me on the bed. "Who are we talking about?"

"It turns out that Chuck is her _boss_," Serena explains and Penelope only looks confused.

"Wait. The British man from the plane? What happened to Carter or the crazed owl as you call him?" she questions and Serena sets her straight.

"Carter is the head of the marketing department, but Chuck is the _CEO _of the company," she fills her in, to which Penelope smiles.

"Do him. He's rich," she simply says and I roll my eyes yet again.

Seriously. One more eye roll and my eyeballs might just pop out of their sockets.

"How very superficial of you P," I comment and I see Serena nodding in agreement out of the corner of my eye.

"You know how I roll," she confirms, sending a naughty text message to God knows who. "What does he look like anyway? I keep hearing Serena talk about how yummy he is. I want proof."

"We can Google him!" Serena suggests eagerly and Penelope and I laugh.

"Dear God, that sounds _so _wrong," I remark, while they gather around my laptop, already typing his name into the search engine.

"Oh _him_!" Penelope exclaims, her shrill voice assaulting my ears. "I _totally _did him once, but he never told me he was the CEO of Bass Industries!"

_What_ did she just say? Chuck and _Penelope_? No. No. No. No. _No!_ Dear God. _Please_ no.

"What? You and Chuck? _Are you serious?_" I shout, sprinting over to her side, looking her dead on in the eyes.

Behind her, Serena looks even more surprised (or jealous). I can't tell.

"No, he's never been my client before, but the look on your face was _priceless_," she notes, falling into a fit of laughter. "_Oh man!_ You should have seen your reaction. You are _definitely _attracted to him B. Don't even try to deny it."

I let her go of her then, cheeks burning red. _As if._ She has no idea what she's talking about.

"I'm not interested in him. Trust me," I let both of them know. "He's heinous. He may be hot, but he has the most repulsive personality. It's true what they say. He's a _total _womanizer."

"No kidding," Serena comments, scrolling down the page. "Did you know he was with Olivia Burke for awhile? I'm a _huge _fan of hers."

The actress? He's definitely playing me like a violin then. I mean, _come on_! After dating Olivia Burke, why would he be interested in _me_? Then again, _I'm_ not interested in _him_, so I guess we can call it even. I'm only interested in Nate, my wonderful, wonderful boyfriend.

"Who cares? Can we stop talking about this now?" I ask, but the look in Serena's eyes tells me she's not done with the conversation, not even close.

"By the way P," she updates her. "Chuck asked B out at work today."

"Oh, for 'business' you mean," Penelope adds, playing along, air quotes and all.

"Very funny girls, but it doesn't even matter because I'm not going," I say confidently, closing the window on my laptop to stop them from reading up on him any further. "He can wait there forever for all I care. I mean, he _knows _I have a boyfriend and he's _still _trying to court me. How despicable is that?"

"Oh yeah, dating a hot guy and having another one interested in you is _so _terrible," Penelope drawls.

"_The torture!_" Serena adds dramatically, pretending to die.

"It _is_!" I protest, reminding them, "He knows all of my secrets you know! I always have to be on my toes when I'm around him. I mean, I'll never know when he might use them against me. It's completely irritating and exhausting for that matter!"

"Sure it is," they say in unison and Serena adds, "Please, you probably enjoy the challenge, the banter, whatever. We know you B."

"That we do," Penelope agrees, examining her nails now. "In fact, we're _so _certain we know you inside and out that we can bet that you'll show up tonight, you know, for _business _reasons."

She winks at me, making me even more determined to prove them wrong.

"Well, I'm going to prove the two of you wrong. In fact, I'm going to make dinner plans with Nate, right now, for eight o'clock tonight," I announce, but neither of them seems to be affected at all by my words.

"Uh huh," Serena replies. "Sure. Whatever you say B."

"You can even borrow my new heels," Penelope offers, evidently confident that I'll be going to Desire tonight. "They'll look great on you."

"_I'm not going!_" I insist, forcing them out of my room.

I can hear them whispering to each other on the other side of the door. I repeat. What do _they _know? In fact, I'm going to call Nate right now. I punch in his number and wait for him to pick up. I hang up the moment he does. _Oh God._ What am I doing?

* * *

I sneak another glance at my watch. 9 o'clock. He would have been waiting there for an hour already, _would have_ being the key words of course. I mean, he probably arrived at eight, waited for like 15 minutes before he decided to hightail it out of there. I have absolutely nothing to feel guilty about.

"Blair, are you alright?" I hear Nate ask me and I bring myself back to reality.

"Huh?" I respond, not so elegantly. "Oh, uh, yeah. Just a little worn out from work today."

"Oh I can imagine," he tells me, taking a bite of his steak. "I think he's actually going to be visiting _our _department tomorrow. So, what's he like?"

Tomorrow? _His_ department? That means Chuck will finally meet Nate in person. Oh no.

Chuck: Ken, right?

Nate: No. Nate.

Chuck: Of course. I forgot. Blair just _thinks _you remind her a Ken doll is all. Did I mention she hates everything you give her? Especially that hideous neon green watch you got for her birthday or so I'm told.

Nate: _Excuse me?_

Chuck: She thinks you have horrible taste in lingerie too by the way. If you ever need help in that department man, call me. I'm an expert, especially at taking it off.

I simply _cannot _let that conversation become a reality. I'm going to have to put Blair the spy on duty tomorrow. I mean, I can't risk Nate finding out about some of my deepest, darkest secrets. I want to trust that Chuck will keep them to himself, but I really don't, not right now anyway.

"He's nice I guess," I answer him, not wanting to say too much, taking a bite out of my salmon.

"Oh great," Nate comments, adding, "I actually hope he'll give me a moment of his time tomorrow. I've got this great plan for helping the company expand into the female market that I think he'll really like."

"We already cater to the female market," I remind him, glancing at my watch again.

Another 15 minutes has passed.

"Yeah, but recent surveys suggest that most of our customers are still males. Most females still find the brand to be too aggressive, too masculine, you know?" he clarifies and I can only nod.

I normally don't mind discussing work stuff with Nate, but tonight, any mention of work just makes me think about Chuck and how he might still be waiting for me at Desire, wondering where I am, even though the chances of that are slim, _very _slim.

"Oh, well, good luck then," I say, hoping to end the conversation. "I'm sure he'll love your game plan."

"Thanks Blair," he answers, smiling at me gratefully for the support.

When he looks away again, I steal another look at my watch. I have _seriously _got to stop doing that. I'm here for dinner with Nate. I'm being ridiculous. All that matters right now is me, him, in this restaurant.

About half an hour later (and a few time checks later), we're out on the sidewalk, prepared to take a cab home together. Maybe I could just pass by Desire to see if he's there. I mean, just for some peace of mind.

"After you darling," Nate says, opening the cab door for me, waiting for me to get in first.

What a gentleman. I almost feel bad for wanting to drop by Desire now, but I just _have _to know.

"Actually Nate," I start apologetically. "I just realized I forgot something important at the office."

"Oh, well, I'll come with you, and then we can head back to my place," he offers sweetly.

"No!" I respond, panicking for a moment. "I'll be fine. I have my pepper spray."

"Alright," he concedes, helping me into the cab. "Are you still coming over tonight though?"

"Definitely," I assure him, pulling him in for a goodbye kiss. "I'll be quick."

He closes the cab door and as the vehicle pulls away from the curb, I can see him waving me off in the corner of my eye before taking the next cab.

"Where to miss?" I hear the taxi driver ask me.

"Oh, uh, Desire please," I tell him, getting more and more anxious as the seconds pass.

"Desire," he repeats, watching me in the rear-view mirror. "Now, would that be the club or that new yoga centre they just opened up a few streets down?"

"Do I _look _like I do yoga?" I ask him, lips pursed. "Seriously, can you just step on it?"

"Whatever you say lady," he responds, keeping silent the rest of the trip over.

The moment the cab arrives in front of the club, I bolt out of there, heading for the doors.

"Excuse me miss," one of the bouncers stops me. "Are you on the guest list?"

There's a guest list? _Shit._ Wait. I _must _be on the guest list. Chuck asked me to meet him here.

"Blair Waldorf?" I inform him, as if questioning my own name.

His finger sweeps down the list and he stops, somewhere near the bottom. Nodding curtly in my direction, he removes the velvet rope in front of me and lets me through. Thank God. Otherwise, I was going to have to get in by telling him who my mother was. I really don't like using my family connections, like _ever_.

I glance around the club, hoping to spot him. I deduce that he's probably over by the bar and head over there. I catch a glimpse of my watch then. 10 o'clock. Would he still be here?

"Can I help you with something doll face?" a scantily clad bartender asks me, probably because I look so lost.

"Yeah, I'm looking for someone actually, a man," I tell her and she laughs.

"Honey, look around you," she advises, setting down a drink in front of me. "Most of our customers are men. On the house sweetheart."

"Thanks," I say, gulping it down. "More specifically, I'm looking for Chuck Bass. Do you know him?"

"The CEO of Bass Industries?" she clarifies and I nod. "Yeah, he was here tonight. Came here around eight I'd say. Just left actually, got some important phone call I think. You his new girl?"

Ugh. Does she _have _to put it that way?

"Uh no," I answer, getting up to leave, making sure I tip her for her help. "Just a colleague."

"Ah, figures," she comments, taking away my empty glass and her tip. "He never waits for any girl, you know, so if you was his new girl, I'd say you was pretty darn special."

"Uh, thanks," I say, walking away from her. "For everything."

As I leave the club, I am assaulted by all of the emotions currently running through my mind. He _actually _waited for me. Well, he did lie technically, since he said he would wait for me until I arrived, but that's not really the important thing here. He _actually _waited for me! And to think I doubted him.

I also can't help but replay the bartender's words in my head. Could I be special to him? I mean, we're not even _friends_, not really. I couldn't possibly be more important to him right now than a colleague or simply another girl to add on to his laundry list. Ugh. Why does this all have to be so confusing? I wish people had signs over their heads, you know, telling you how they feel.

Then again, why do I care how he feels? I mean, I suppose it would be flattering to know that I was different from all of the other girls he's been with, but that's probably about it. I'm in a happy, committed relationship, and I'm not about to throw that away just to satisfy my curiosity of the unknown. That's exactly what Chuck is to me right now, practically unknown. That's probably the only reason I'm interested in him.

21. I seriously need to stop doing that thing where I talk to myself in my head.

As I hail a cab down, ready to head over to Nate's place, I realize that I've _actually _forgotten my USB in my desk drawer. There's a few important documents in there that I need to deal with tonight, which is even better, since now, technically my lie to Nate isn't quite a lie anymore.

When I get to office, however, stuffing the USB in my purse, I hear something that will probably scar me for life. I cautiously bring myself closer to the sounds, only to stop short in my tracks when I see the source of the disturbing noises. I immediately take out my cell phone and take a short video, closing my eyes after I adjust the position of the device, not wanting to actually see the scene before me myself.

I am _so _going to get that promotion now. Forget trying to plead my case to Carter. The bitch is back and she's bringing the word 'blackmail' with her.


	7. Fall

**A/N:** Today, my laptop was officially certified dead. The contents of my hard drive are still intact, which is why I was able to post this chapter, but the next update may take a little longer than usual. I am also posting a Chuck and Blair one-shot titled Hair today. Please give that a read as well should you have the time. "There are a lot of things Blair Waldorf likes about Chuck Bass, but secretly, what she likes about him most, is what he does to her hair." Oh and by the way, two lines in this chapter are indeed rephrased from a Hannah Montana episode before anyone burns me for it. Yes, I watch that show. Don't judge me. Please review!

**Fall**

* * *

The next morning, I am feeling on top of the world, absolutely unstoppable. Today, I am finally going to be promoted to marketing executive. Blackmail always does the trick, something I have long forgotten.

I glance at my watch. Perfect. I have just enough time to swing by Starbucks before heading off to work.

_Ugh._ Work. Apart from looking forward to the promotion, I really have nothing else to look forward to. Chuck is going to be meeting Nate in person today after all. My goal this morning: to find out when this visit will happen. I just _have_ to be there, lurking in the shadows, ready to pounce on Chuck should he mention any of my secrets.

"B? Are you in there?" I hear Serena question, but she's already opening my bedroom door. "Oh good. You are. Now spill."

"Excuse me?" I stall, trying to collect my thoughts.

"Oh please," Penelope says, joining us in the room. "We would have asked you last night, but you were at Nate's. How did it go with Chuck?"

"I have _no_ idea what you're talking about," I insist, retrieving my purse from my chair, attempting to walk past them. "I never went."

"Oh, so I guess that's why my brand new heels don't look quite so brand new anymore?" she asks, a victorious smile on her lips.

"I wore those to dinner with _Nate_ last night," I explain and I realize I'm not even biting my lip because technically, what I'm saying is true.

"Uh huh," Serena comments, still unwilling to believe me. "_Sure_ B."

The three of us continue to stare each other down until one of us finally cracks and that, would be me.

"Alright, so I showed up at Desire last night after all," I confess with a sigh, heading out of my bedroom towards the kitchen.

Needless to say, they follow me.

"So spill then! What happened?" Serena pries, eager to know all the juicy details.

"Oh no," Penelope guesses when she sees the look on my face. "He didn't show up, did he? I can castrate him for you if you'd like."

"No, he showed up at eight," I defend him, before adding, "He had just left though when I arrived there at ten."

"Wait," Serena stops me, wondering, "Why did you show up at ten? I think you might have taken the whole 'fashionably late' thing a little too far there."

I roll my eyes. I just want to get to work already.

"I didn't _want_ to show up," I explain, hoping this time I'll get through to them. "I actually _did_ go to dinner with Nate at eight, but then at around nine, I just kept checking my watch, wondering, you know? So, finally, at around ten, I decided to drop by, just to see if he was there, just to satisfy my curiosity."

"But he wasn't there," Penelope points out knowingly.

"He had some important phone call to take according to the bartender there and just left," I repeat and they nod now, finally getting the picture.

"Must have been pretty damn important for him to bail like that," Serena states. "I mean, he waited for _two_ hours, didn't he?"

"True," I agree and now, she's got me thinking.

What was so important about that phone call that he just _had_ to leave? Maybe I'll ask him at work today, but then again, I'd rather he not know that I was there at all, lest I cause his ego to inflate even more. He is _definitely_ the kind of guy who loves being right, like _relishes_ in the fact that he's right.

"Hey, what's this B?" Penelope interrupts my thoughts, holding the CD I burned of Carter and Vanessa in her hands.

"Oh nothing," I say, grabbing it and stuffing it into my purse. "Just some work stuff, you know, documents and whatnot. I've got to go. See you girls later."

Before Penelope or Serena can ask for details, I'm out the door. It's not that I don't _want_ to tell them about the blackmail, but I'd rather do it after I've secured my promotion, maybe when we're celebrating it tonight.

As I walk into Starbucks, I feel right at home. We have one across from the office and believe me, _no one_ appreciates that more than Nelly and I do. We come here once or twice a day during office hours, so practically the entire staff knows us already.

"Hey Blair," I hear Bree say my name, my usual already in her hands.

Bless this girl and the best part is, I don't even have to pay for it yet. They send me my bill at the end of the every month. It's one of the perks of being a ridiculously loyal and frequent customer.

"Thanks Bree," I say, taking the cups from her hands. "Have a nice day."

"You too," she answers. "How are those yoga classes coming along by the way?"

I stop in my tracks. She suggested that I take yoga classes once and since then, she's been asking me about them. Well, I suppose I shouldn't have lied to her about taking them in the first place, but still.

"Oh great," I tell her, avoiding her gaze. "Thanks for asking."

"We should go together sometime," she offers and I return her smile.

"Yeah, sure," I say brightly. "I'll call you."

Before she can say anything else, I'm out the door, flying across the street to Bass Industries. Seriously. _Why is everyone hounding me this morning?_ Never mind. Promotion, here I come!

I quickly drop Nelly's coffee off at her desk before heading over to mine. Eight o'clock. Perfect. Just in time. Like clockwork, Carter sticks his head out of his office then and addresses me.

"Blair, get in here," he says, retreating back into his office without even waiting for an answer.

I grab the CD from my purse and head on over, more confident than ever that I will be a marketing executive in about 15 minutes.

"Alright Blair, please take a seat," he starts, not even looking up from his clipboard to acknowledge me. "Let's get this over with. You've been doing fine, you're on time, you do what you're told, and all that jazz. Keep up the good work. You're an asset to this company. Now, get out of my office."

_Wow._ He is _really_ just making this inevitable victory _that_ much sweeter.

"Actually Carter," I begin, getting up into a standing position now, so that I'm looming over him. "Before I get the fuck out your office, I want to discuss my promotion with you."

He looks up at me then, bewildered at my unusual boldness.

"_Excuse me?_" he manages to say after awhile, still flabbergasted.

"I think I deserve to be promoted to marketing executive this year, don't you?" I continue, becoming more and more encouraged to go through with this.

"No," he answers bluntly, finally taking control of his shock. "I don't, not after the way you fucked up at that meeting with the CEO of Desire. Besides, I only promote a maximum of two of my staff every year and I'm afraid, I've already made my choices. Work hard and try again next year, alright Blair? Now, seriously. Get the hell out of my office and ask Dan to come in."

"Who are they?" I question, walking over to his side of the desk, ready to pop the CD in my hands into the hard drive. "Vanessa, perhaps?"

"Well, for your information, yes, but because she deserves it. She's worked really hard this year. Like I've said before, it wouldn't hurt to learn a thing or two from her," he reminds me, eyeing me carefully, but not stopping me as I slip the disk into his computer.

"You know Carter, I would, but I have this thing where I don't sleep with my boss to climb up the corporate ladder," I snarl, hitting play on the video.

"What the _hell_ are you…?" he trails off as recognition hits him like a ton of bricks.

His eyes widen and he immediately snatches the mouse out of my hands, closing the video. Satisfied, I return to my seat. He can keep the disc. I have copies at home for the extra insurance.

"_How did you get this?_" he hisses, leaning over the desk to confront me.

I pretend to examine my nails for a moment before telling him, "Well, I realized I forgot my USB at the office last night, so I came back to get it. Little did I know that my boss was sticking _his_ USB into my coworker's hard drive. See what I did there? Clever, right?"

"_Have you told anyone?_" he seethes, silently admitting to the fact that I have the upper hand here.

I smirk, leaning back into my chair. I've got him right where I want him.

"Well, no, not _yet_ anyway," I say and the fury in his eyes is all too satisfying.

"You want that stupid promotion? _Fine!_ You can have it," he tells me, scribbling something onto his clipboard. "Are we good now?"

I laugh.

"Not quite Carter," I inform him and he goes pale. "You see, getting my promotion will be so much more satisfying if Vanessa doesn't get hers."

"Come on Blair," he pleads with me. "You know I can't _not_ promote her, especially since I've already told her I will. She'll sue me for sexual harassment or whatever even though she was the one who threw herself at me! You _know_ that!"

I glance at him then and a small feeling of pity overcomes me. Alright. I suppose I don't have to take things _so_ far. I mean, he slept with her already. The STDs he's going to get are punishment enough.

"Fine," I concede and he smiles gratefully at me. "But I get to be at the same level as her, whatever you're promoting her to."

"You got it," he says, scribbling something again onto his clipboard. "Two marketing directors coming right up! Are we done here now?"

"Yes," I answer, finally satisfied with my review. "Oh and you can keep the disc, you know, for your viewing pleasure. My lips are sealed."

He curses under his breath at my words, breaking the disc in half in front of me. I shrug. It doesn't matter to _me_. I got what I wanted out of this.

As I head back to my desk, Dan blocks my path.

"How was it?" he asks me, needing to know. "Did you get the promotion?"

Everyone already knew that Vanessa had gotten the first one, which meant that there was only one spot left on the promotion roster.

"Uh yeah," I tell him honestly, especially since Carter probably had to cut him out to accommodate me this year. "Sorry Humphrey."

"_You_ got the promotion?" he asks me incredulously. "This is ridiculous."

I watch him storm into Carter's room and I almost feel bad for doing what I just did. Nah. Who am I kidding? I feel great!

"Blair, phone," Hazel informs me then, handing me the device, which I take happily.

Seriously. _Best day ever._

"Hello?" I speak into the phone, forgetting to ask Hazel who was calling me.

"Blair, Jenny here," I hear the wicked witch of the Upper East Side announce, pure evil dripping from her voice.

"Jenny, what a surprise," I say nicely because I'm in _such_ a good mood. "How can I help you?"

"Oh, actually, you mentioned you were getting a promotion the other day, so I thought I'd call and see how your review went," she explains and I smirk, dying to tell her the good news. "It _was_ today, wasn't it? We're on speaker phone right now by the way. I have Eleanor and Harold here. I thought they should hear the good news too, you know?"

_Ha!_ She thinks I didn't get the promotion! Bitch has another thing coming.

"Of course," I respond, still smiling. "How thoughtful of you Jenny."

"Well, go on dear," my mother speaks up then, getting impatient. "Did you get it or not?"

"Yes, do tell us Blair Bear," I hear my father urge beside her.

"Look," Jenny adds sympathetically. "If you didn't get it, don't worry about it. You could always hope for next year. You're used to doing that anyway, you know?"

"Thanks Jenny, but there's no need because I _got_ the promotion," I reveal and her silence is victory enough.

"Wonderful," my mother comments and my dad echoes the sentiment. "So, are you the head of the marketing department at Bass Industries now?"

Thanks mom. Way to rain on my parade.

"Uh no, marketing director," I correct her, although I add, "But that would be the next step, you know."

"Right. Well, _do_ aim for that next year then Blair," she finishes before informing my dad that they were late for some charity event or another.

_God._ She couldn't just have said how happy she was for me? Nothing is _ever_ enough for her! _I give up!_

"Congratulations then I suppose," Jenny finishes, interrupting my thoughts. "I hope sleeping with the boss for this position was worth it."

Before I can retort, she hangs up on me. _Ugh!_ I swear. Serena, Penelope, and I will be commencing the bringing-Jenny-down project soon, _very_ soon. She better watch her back.

"_You_ got promoted to marketing director too?" I hear Vanessa clarify in disbelief, wheeling over on her computer chair to sit beside me.

"Yeah," I say, a look of pride on my face. "And I didn't even need to sleep with the boss to get it."

Her face blanches for a moment.

"_Excuse me?_ Are you insinuating that I _slept_ with Carter to get my promotion?" she hisses quietly, making sure our coworkers won't overhear.

"Not at all," I inform her before pushing her out of the way, heading for the staff room. "But hey! If the shoe fits…"

I am grinning like an absolute idiot by the time I get to staff room, exceedingly pleased with myself.

"Thinking of me?" I hear a voice say.

_Chuck._

"Whatever helps you sleep at night," I comment, walking past him.

He stops me, his hand on my wrist, pulling me back. Our faces are mere inches apart.

"You came last night," he observes and his eyes wander to my lips for a moment.

I wrench myself out of his grasp then because I know I am simply _that_ close to kissing him. His lips look so kissable up close. _No._ Bad Blair. Focus!

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I respond, although I stay where I am, curious as to where this conversation is going.

"You're biting your lip," he notices before adding, "And the bartender already told me you were there, so quit fooling yourself. You're interested in me."

"I'm not," I insist, determined to set him straight. "I'm intrigued by you, yes, but that's only because I know so little about you. You're a mystery to me. I have someone who's loyal, and caring, and who's always going to be there for me. I'm not going to throw all of that away just to figure you out."

"Are you dating a person or a dog?" he comments, although I can see his face fall a little at my words.

"You know what I mean," I say, wanting to flip the attention onto him for a change. "What was that important phone call you had to take anyway?"

He raises his eyebrows for a moment, questioning my sources.

"I talked to the bartender too you know," I simply explain, to which he replies, "Of course. Well, whatever your source, I can't tell you. I'm afraid that phone conversation was private and will _remain_ private."

Oh. So _he_ has secrets too. Great. Now, I'm even more curious about him. What could that phone call possibly have been all about?

"Private?" I pry, lips pursed in thought. "Business sort of private or personal sort of private?"

"Personal sort of private," he answers. "And I'm serious about not telling you, so stop fishing Blair. I would also appreciate it if you kept the fact that I was in Denver recently to yourself."

"_Ha!_" I shout, noticing his slip up. "I never even mentioned Denver, so that phone call _must_ have had something to do with Denver."

The look in his eyes tells me he realizes his mistake too now, but he remains silent, causing me to continue.

"Oh come on Chuck," I urge, hoping he'll tell me. "I told you all of my secrets!"

"Not by choice," he mutters, but he seems to waver for a split second.

Moments later, a smirk appears on his face and he leans in close, until his lips are a breadth away from touching my ear.

"Blair, can you keep a secret?" he asks me and I can feel my heart beat against my rib cage then, although I'm not sure whether it's because he's about to reveal a secret to me or because he's so darn close to me.

"Of course," I assure him, making sure he knows he can trust me.

"Good," he finishes. "Because I can too."

And with that, he walks away from me, making his presence known once again among my coworkers. As Carter steps out of his office to welcome him once more to the department, all I can do is curse him inside my head. _Damn that motherchucker!_


	8. Elevator

**A/N:** I think everyone should thank gleefan. Because of his (or her) ridiculously rude and nonconstructive review after I posted the last chapter, I am more determined than ever now to see this story (and Chuck and Blair) through to the end. Thanks for reading all seven chapters though gleefan. Must have been _torture_ since this story is so horrible and all. To the rest of you (including my lovely anonymous reviewers), thank you for your continued support and as always, _constructive_ criticism is more than welcome. In case anyone is wondering, some more lines in this chapter are rephrased from the same Hannah Montana episode of the last one, He Could Be The One. Reviews are love.

**Elevator**

* * *

The moment I regain my composure, I head back to my desk. Chuck is standing in the middle of the office addressing the department now. What the hell is he still doing here? Was he not supposed to visit the research department today?

"I am simply here to retrieve a few relevant files before heading over to the research department at around noon," I hear him explain, smiling at the adoring crowd. "Please, carry on with your daily activities. No need to pay me any mind."

_Yeah, right._

As everyone bustles off back to work, an eerie silence overtakes the room, making me feel extremely uncomfortable. Normally, Carter is yelling at someone (usually me), Hazel is gossiping with Katie about God knows who, that sort of thing. I had no idea the office could be this quiet before.

I glance around my desk, desperately looking for something to do like everyone else has, especially since all _I_ do is keep glancing at him out of the corner of my eye. He catches me watching him moments later and smirks. _Fuck._ I seriously need to find something to do, concentrate on something or rather, _somebody_ else.

Suddenly, I remember that Carter asked me to type up a few letters for him a few days ago. _Perfect._ As I begin to type out the first one, the sound of my fingers against the keyboard overtakes the room. Who would have ever thought that a menial task like typing could be so awkward? About a paragraph into the letter, however, I'm feeling much more at ease. In fact, I'm not even thinking about him anymore.

_Damn it._

"What are you working on Miss Waldorf?" I hear Chuck ask me suddenly and I jump at the sound of his voice, hitting my knee against the edge of my desk (#%!&).

I bite my tongue instantly to keep myself from cursing out loud, even though my knee is currently throbbing in pain. How the _hell_ did I miss him walking over here to my desk? Oh right. I was too busy pretending he _wasn't_ there. Stupid. Stupid. _Stupid._

"Are you alright?" he wonders, chuckling at my pained expression.

I glare at him. _Clearly_, the universe hates me right now.

"Do I _look_ alright to you?" I hiss, only causing him to grin even wider, an amused twinkle in his eyes now.

_Ugh._ I just want to wipe that annoying smirk off his face. From this moment forward, I am avoiding him (again). I turn up my nose and continue to type. My fingers are hitting the keyboard now – _hard_.

"Oh come on Blair. You're not actually upset with me, are you?" he whispers and I start to waver because I can _actually_ detect some serious concern in his voice. "You can't _possibly_ blame me for your little knee-against-the-desk accident just now."

Me? _Upset_ with him? _Oh gee._ Where do I even begin? Actually, I'm not even going to indulge him with an answer. Just keep typing Blair.

"Excuse me Mr. Bass?" Dan speaks up suddenly, peeking over my cubicle yet again. "Could I possibly get your opinion on something?"

_Seriously_. I'm so glad my promotion will be effective tomorrow. I'll get my own office and everything. No more of Humphrey constantly invading my personal space.

"Of course," Chuck entertains him, casting a sideways glance at me to let me know that he'll be back (begging for my forgiveness I secretly hope).

"Oh please don't," I mutter under my breath instead, continuing with my work.

"_Liar, Liar, pants on fire_," says the voice inside my head. _Shut up!_

Three typed and printed letters later, Dan is still droning on about his presentation, pointing at his shiny white board every so often. Honestly. Has he ever heard of the term 'trying too hard'? I wonder if I have the power to fire him as marketing director because I totally would, like in a heartbeat. Reason: Bores me to death (or annoys the hell out of me). Actually, _any_ reason would work for me as long as I can get rid of the know-it-all.

"So, what do you think Mr. Bass?" he finally finishes and I notice now that practically everyone in the office has their attention on the two of them.

"Let me get this straight," Chuck starts, looking straight at him. "What you're saying is that you think repacking Bass Tequila will help it sell better?"

There is an awkward silence in the room, all eyes on Dan for his answer.

"Essentially, yes," Dan states, turning back to his white board. "As you can see here, Bass Tequila is currently the most unpopular product of the company."

"Yes, I'm aware," Chuck responds, stopping him before he decides to ramble on again. "And I agree that we _should_ repackage the product, but next time, pitch this to me using the _least_ amount of words that you can, alright?"

There are murmurs around the room and Hazel, who has always had low self control, bursts into giggles. I'm about to shake my head in disapproval at her lack of decorum in the office, when I find myself stifling a laugh too. Oh! Who am I kidding? I could _kiss_ him for telling Humphrey off like that, you know, figuratively speaking.

He keeps his eyes trained on me the entire time and when he thinks no one is looking, he mouths, "Am I forgiven?"

22. I hate to admit it, but his smile could make me do anything.

I nod and am about to mouth a simple 'yes' back, but something stops me. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Vanessa flitting her eyes between us suspiciously. The last thing I want is for her to draw her own conclusions about the (innocent) relationship between me and Chuck and then run and tell Nate about it.

Nate probably won't believe her anyway and he shouldn't because Chuck and I are just friends (who are slightly attracted to one another). Still, Vanessa _can_ be convincing, and Nate, gullible.

"Mr. Bass, the files you asked for," I hear Carter say, scrambling out of his office to reach him.

"Oh wonderful," Chuck comments, taking the stack in his hands. "Could I maybe borrow one of your staff to accompany me to the research department by the way? My assistant called in sick today, so I need someone to take notes for me at the meeting."

I swear I saw his assistant walk in with him this morning.

"Of course," Carter agrees, looking around the room for a suitable candidate.

He should pick me. I'm pretty much the departmental secretary anyway alongside being a marketing assistant (soon to be marketing director). Besides, I would love to see Nate. Me wanting to be chosen has absolutely _nothing_ to do with Chuck.

_Liar, Liar, pants on fire._ Alright, what gives? The voice inside my head is like a broken record today.

"I can go," Vanessa volunteers almost immediately, being the eager beaver that she is.

The look on Carter's face tells me all I need to know. Vanessa has already caused enough trouble for him today. He's not in the mood to favor her.

"Blair, you can go with Mr. Bass to the research department," he announces, probably because he needs a breather from the person who just blackmailed him out of a promotion this morning. "Vanessa will help you type those letters up."

I simply nod, but inside my head, I'm having a little party for myself. Not only do I get to accompany Chuck to the research department, Vanessa looks like she's about to _explode_. This day just keeps getting better and better!

Chuck and I leave the office wordlessly, barely stealing a glance at each other. Only when we step into the elevator does he address me.

"You know," he starts, pressing 12. "This actually works out for you. Now you can make sure I won't spill any of your secrets to Nate without having to spy on us."

_What?_ How did he know I was planning to spy on them?

23. It scares me sometimes how he can read my mind like that.

I'm not even going to bother trying to lie my way out of this one, not this time.

"So, I wanted to make sure," I say, shrugging my shoulders without a care in the world. "Sue me."

At that very moment, the elevator screeches to a halt, and naturally, the lights go out as well. This _cannot_ be happening. I'm borderline claustrophobic for God's sake! Even seeing how calm Chuck is about this doesn't help to soothe my nerves in the least bit.

"Hello, is anyone in there?" a voice calls out from the elevator speaker.

"Uh yes, Richard," Chuck answers, still as calm as ever. "There's two of us in here, me and Miss Waldorf from the marketing department."

"Oh! Mr. Bass!" Richard exclaims, recognizing his voice immediately. "I'll get you out of there as soon as I can! Don't panic!"

_Please._ He sounds more panicked than Chuck does, speaking of which, does _nothing_ ever shake up the great Chuck Bass?

"Will do," Chuck assures him before taking a seat on the elevator floor, putting the stack of files aside.

"_What are you doing?_" I hiss, making out his shape in the darkness, still scared out of my mind, although slightly less so than before.

I've seen movies like this, you know? Anytime now the elevator cable is going to snap and we're both going to plummet to our deaths. Then again, I guess I shouldn't be complaining _too_ much. It could be worse. I could be stuck with Vanessa right now and be doomed to die with _her_.

"I would sit too if I were you," he informs me, patting the space next to him. "I know my employees well. It'll take Richard about half an hour before he's even _close_ to getting us out of here."

_Oh great._ Of all the people he could _possibly_ hire, he hires some guy who takes his sweet time rescuing people from faulty elevators.

"I know you're scared Blair," he tells me, looking at me now as I take a seat next to him, making sure to leave some space between us (although not much, really). "You told me you're a little claustrophobic on the plane, remember? We'll talk while we're in here, alright? We'll be out in no time."

_Ugh._ He's treating me like a child, but then again, his attentiveness to me at the moment _is_ really quite flattering (and touching).

"Ok," I answer, giving in. "What should we talk about?"

I guess this would be the perfect opportunity to get to know him better anyway.

"How about you?" he suggests and for the first time, I notice exactly how close he is to me.

Is it just me? Or is it getting hot in here?

"I'd rather not," I tell him because honestly, he knows so much about me already.

I mean, why can't we talk about _him_ for a change or more specifically, about that oh so important phone call that he won't tell me about?

"Fine," he concedes, knowing exactly what I'm thinking probably. "How about we alternate? You ask something about me and then I'll ask something about you."

"Deal," I say, pursing my lips in thought. "I'll start."

What do I want to know about Chuck Bass? I mean, I know so little about him, I don't even know where to start, although I know I should probably steer clear of asking him about that phone call for now.

"What are your parents like?" I end up asking and the look on his face then _really_ makes me regret asking my question.

What kind of stupid question is that anyway? Of all the things I could have possibly asked him, I want to learn more about his _parents_? I'm so ridiculous sometimes.

"Uh, well, my mom died giving birth to me and my dad, he died in a car accident a few years back," he answers, making me feel even worse for asking him about his parents in the first place. "My dad and I didn't exactly have a loving relationship when he was alive, but I loved him I guess."

"I'm really sorry," I murmur, unable to even look at him.

I mean, I didn't know about his mother, but I should have known about his dad. After all, that's how he became the CEO of Bass Industries. _Oh God._ I'm _such_ an idiot. Just when I need my memory, it fails me. Go figure.

"Don't worry about it," he assures me, although I can see that my question has affected him somehow. "Alright. My turn. What kind of underwear are you wearing right now?"

I slap him on the shoulder playfully upon hearing his question. I'd normally get upset and call him a pervert or something for even _thinking_ about the kind of underwear I'm wearing, but I know he's just trying to lighten up the mood a little this time around. It's fine. I mean, we should probably stick to lighter questions anyway.

"None of your business," I tell him sternly, although my eyes are smiling.

"Fair enough," he agrees and for the first time, I feel as if we're old friends.

In some weird, twisted way, it's kind of nice that he knows all of my deepest, darkest secrets. I can be myself around him and not worry about him judging me because let's face it, he probably already has (judged me, I mean).

"My turn," I announce, slowly starting to forget that I'm even stuck in an elevator. "Um…If you weren't the CEO of Bass Industries and you could be anything you wanted, what would it be?"

Evidently, I'm more interested in the _person_ I'm stuck with now.

"The proud owner of a chain of burlesque clubs," he responds almost instantly and I groan.

He is totally just playing around with me again.

"I'm serious!" I say, looking at him in exasperation. "Quit playing around!"

"I _was_ being serious," he reveals, leaning his head back against the elevator wall with a laugh of amusement.

I remain silent because something tells me he'll explain himself anyway. There's no need for me to _ask_ for details.

"My father hated the idea," he explains, just as I expected. "I pitched it to him once a few years back. I wanted to provide an escape for people, a place to just lay back and have some fun, you know?"

"Can't people do that at bars, at clubs, etc.?" I wonder, not even realizing that I've interrupted him.

"I guess," he agrees. "But there's a lot more to burlesque clubs. I mean, it's a form of entertainment, that kind of thing. Anyway, my father never approved, insisting that I help him run the company instead. Stick with what I know, you know? 'This crazy idea of yours is _never_ going to bring in any profits for the company,' he would always remind me."

"You could always go through with it now," I suggest, not knowing what else to say. "I mean, you have the resources, the money, and whatnot."

"I already have," he assures me and I raise an eyebrow at him. "Well, I've gotten a hold of the first one. I've got to start somewhere."

"Oh yeah?" I clarify, wanting more details. "Where is this burlesque club of yours exactly?"

"About a block north of here," he fills me in. "Victrola. Just opened last week. Maybe you've heard of it already. I'm the owner, but I'm extremely low key about it. All my customers know is that I'm the CEO of Bass Industries when I'm there. I guess you could say it's sort of my little secret."

"_You_ own Victrola? I mean, I've never been there before, but I heard it's great," I comment, just happy that I know a secret of _his_ now.

"You should come and check it out sometime," he offers, and our eyes lock at his words. "You know, maybe for our first date or something."

I roll my eyes, giving him a shove, and he just laughs (again).

"Never," I repeat, arms crossed over my chest now, pretending to be mad at him.

He reaches over then, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear and I flinch as his skin comes into contact with mine. I simply _cannot_ look at him right now or I know I won't be able to control myself, boyfriend be damned.

"Why are you with him Blair?" I hear him whisper and I can already feel my heart pounding against my chest. "You're not in love with him, not really."

_What?_ I am suddenly _furious_. It's one thing to ask me _why_ I'm with Nate, but who is he to tell me whether I'm in love with him or not?

"You don't know me Chuck, not really," I echo his earlier statement and I know he can tell that he's upset me.

"Are we _seriously_ going through this again?" he hisses, his voice louder than usual. "That flight _happened_ Blair. So you spilled all of your secrets to some stranger on a plane who turned out to be your boss. Who cares? Seriously. _Get over it._"

"You _don't_ know me!" I yell back at him, standing up now, walking as far away as I can from him. "You know random facts about me Chuck, yes, but you _don't_ know me! You have no _fucking clue_ who I really am! You _think_ you do, but you don't, so do us both a favor and stop pretending like you do!"

_Wow._ That felt surprisingly good. Even so, I'm well aware of the fact that the only sound that can be heard throughout the elevator now is the sound of my heavy breathing. I'm taking in deep breaths to try and calm myself down. Breathe in. Breathe out. _God!_ He gets me so mad sometimes!

"Maybe I don't know everything about you," he admits, getting up and walking closer to me then. "You're absolutely right, but the thing is I _want_ to get to know you Blair. I _want_ to know everything about you and that's what gets me. I've never _ever_ been even _remotely_ interested in any girl before other than what lingerie she happens to be wearing and whether or not I'll have the privilege of taking it off later."

"Don't come any closer," I warn him, not because I don't trust him or because of what he's saying, but because I don't trust _myself_.

"It's impossible for me to know _everything_ about you Blair," he continues, ignoring my heed. "I know that, but I _am_ absolutely certain of _two_ things right now. One, you're attracted to me and two, you want to kiss me right now."

His hand reaches up to caress my cheek then and I find myself holding my breath in anticipation. _Do something Blair!_ You're going to regret cheating on Nate! No. No. _Yes._ No!

"Just tell me if you want me to stop," he murmurs, his lips centimeters away from mine.

My heart is racing uncontrollably now. I feel weak. _Come on Blair!_ Have some self control!

"_No!_" I shout, a little too loudly, somehow managing to step away from him. "I can't do this. I can't do this to Nate. I mean, you're right. I _want_ to kiss you. You have _no_ idea how much I want to kiss you, but that doesn't mean that I should. It doesn't make it _right_."

Chuck doesn't respond. He's looking behind me now and suddenly, I realize that the elevator isn't quite so dark anymore. _Shit._

"You want to _what_?" I hear Nate clarify from behind me and I just want to crawl in a hole and die at that very moment.

"Nate," I whisper instead, turning around to face him, my tone apologetic.

Richard is there by his side of course, leading us both out of the elevator.

"Sorry I took so long Mr. Bass," he apologizes and I can see that Nate is putting two and two together.

"The CEO of the company Blair? _Really?_ And to think, I've been worried about you this entire time because I _know_ you're claustrophobic," he spits angrily, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "_I can't even look at you right now!_"

In the duration of our relationship, Nate has _never_ yelled at me like that before. Now I know _for sure_ that I've screwed up (like _big_ time).

"Wait Nate," I plead with him, desperately pulling him back. "_Nothing_ was going to happen. I love you. You _know_ that."

And this time, I think I really mean it. Why else would I be so afraid of losing him right now?

Nate stills in his movements at my words, but is still unwilling to look at me. Well, you win some, you lose some, right?

"I thought I did, but I'm not so sure anymore," he tells me honestly and I feel like crying. "Call me when you figure it out Blair."

"Yeah, me too," Chuck speaks up from behind me, Richard long gone, having fixed the elevator. "But for what it was worth, I wanted to kiss you too."

And with that, I watch both of them walk away from me, heading to the research department for their meeting, making the effort to steer clear of one another. _Fuck._ What have I done? Or more importantly, what do I do _now_?


	9. Choice

**A/N:** Thank you for all your reviews (again). I hate to torture you for another chapter, but I promise you Chuck and Blair will be together soon. Patience my dear readers. To those of you who have or plan to leave nonconstructive hate reviews, there are tons of Gossip Girl stories out there. Please do us both a favor and _stop _reading mine.

**Choice**

* * *

The moment the two of them are out of my sight, I count to ten to calm myself down. Having been appointed the temporary secretary, I know I need to be present for that meeting too.

"Excuse me," I say as I enter the room, everyone glancing at me briefly before returning their attention back to the front of the room.

"As I was saying," Nate continues, avoiding my gaze. "Most of our customers are still men, which means that our current strategies for appealing to the female market are not effective. Now, what I propose…"

From there, I tune out. Did the whole elevator debacle _actually _happen just now? I feel terrible that Nate overheard what I said. No. Scratch that. I just feel terrible for saying what I did. _Period. _I shouldn't even be _thinking _about kissing Chuck when I have a completely wonderful boyfriend.

I mean, sure, I may get irritated with Nate sometimes, but I've never doubted that he loves me. He's the most loyal person I know. So many girls at this office have thrown themselves at him and he's never even looked at them, not once. Seriously. What have I done? Chuck Bass is the devil. I just know it. My life was perfect (well, almost) before that plane ride. Ever since I got off that plane, I've been doubting my relationship with Nate. This is all Chuck's fault (ok, not really).

_Ugh._ Why does this all have to be so darn complicated? Sometimes I wish God simply told us when we were born who we would end up with. It would make things so much more simple. I steal a glance at both of them then, stopping mid-sentence in my note taking (yes, I can think and write at the same time you know).

They are both being so professional about what happened. Nate has on a smile as he's giving his presentation to the board (and to Chuck) and Chuck nods when appropriate, leaning over a few times to whisper with a colleague.

"I have studied the female market very closely over the past year and I believe that these changes to our current strategy will bring in significant profits to the company," Nate finishes and the room bursts into applause.

"That was absolutely wonderful Mr. Archibald," an older gentleman speaks up next to me. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say that your presentation was on point and that we should implement the changes you've suggested as soon as we possibly can."

There are nods and murmurs of agreement around the room when Chuck speaks up.

"You know nothing about women," I hear him comment and the entire room (including me) turns to look at him in shock.

Oh God. What the _hell _is he doing? I may have been too quick to assume that he was good at keeping things professional.

"Well," Nate retorts sarcastically, rolling his eyes. "Some of us prefer not to be self-proclaimed womanizers Mr. Bass."

There are several gasps around the room upon hearing his retort (the loudest being mine) and I witness Chuck's jaw clench in the corner of my eye. _Oh dear God._ What have I done?

"Perhaps we should continue this meeting another time?" one lady suggests, her eyebrows stitched in confusion.

"Yes, I agree," the older gentleman from before says, getting up to leave. "We can all think the presentation over and have a vote on Thursday. Would that be alright with you Mr. Bass?"

Chuck snaps out of his staring contest with Nate and tells him, "Of course. I will have my secretary arrange the meeting for Thursday."

He follows the rest of the board out of the room, turning back one last time to look at me, seemingly expecting me to follow him, but I find myself unable to move.

"Nate?" I question after a moment, being extra careful with my words as I approach him. "Can we talk?"

He sighs, my words putting him into motion. He starts to pack up his presentation materials, his back turned away from me.

"Nate?" I repeat, stopping in my tracks now, giving him space (literally).

He stops in his movements as well, still unwilling to look at me.

"Not right now Blair," he answers, his voice void of emotion. "You need to figure this out for yourself."

I remain silent, staring down at my shiny black heels. I can see my reflection on the surface, I note then. I look anything but happy.

"Look," he adds, turning around to face me finally. "Am I upset? Of course I am. I have every right to be, but does this mean that I want to breakup with you and move on with my life? No, because I love you Blair and I highly doubt that that will change anytime soon no matter how upset I am. I just want you to figure out whether you love me too or not because should the answer be no, I deserve to know and then we can both move on with our lives."

"Nate," I start again, wanting desperately to say something, to tell him how I feel.

"Just go Blair," he whispers, disappointment in his voice. "I think we both need some time to think on our own. Like I said before, call me when you figure it out."

I nod because I know what he's saying is true. How can I tell him my thoughts or how I feel when _I_ don't even know the answers to both those questions? Maybe I should take the rest of the day off and think things through. Then again, that would be like trying to run away from the problem and Blair Waldorf takes on a problem head on whether she likes it or not. She apparently also likes to refer to herself in the third person.

* * *

The moment I step into my apartment, Serena and Penelope are already waiting for me. Neither of them greet me and only when I glance at the kitchen table and notice the tubs of ice cream do I know that _they _already know about what happened this afternoon.

"How did you find out?" I ask, not in the mood to beat around the bush. "Did Nate call?"

"No actually," Serena answers, walking over to me and dragging me over to the table. "Nelly did. Apparently, everyone at the office has been talking about it."

_What? _How did I not notice that? Then again, I returned to my desk and blocked everyone out for the rest of the day.

"How is that even possible?" I wonder out loud, taking a seat, throwing my purse on the table. "The only people who were there were me, Nate, Chuck, and Richard."

"There's _another _guy?" Penelope exclaims, a shocked look on her face. "Gosh B. How did that happen?"

"_No! _Richard was the one who rescued us from the elevator," I correct her, exasperated at the thought of juggling three guys at the same time.

"Ice cream?" Serena offers then, handing me a tub and a spoon.

I push her away.

"Come on girls. I am horrified about what happened, yes, but I am _not _going to have a meltdown," I assure them both.

They're still looking at me skeptically, but neither of them force me to have a tub of ice cream.

"Well, I guess you're right," Serena concedes, digging into the tub herself. "I mean, you got that promotion, didn't you?"

"And through blackmail too!" Penelope adds, beaming. "We're totally proud of you B. So, shall we discuss our plans to bring down all that is Jenny Humphrey? I already hired this one guy to figure out how to get past their security system."

"You did _what_?" I shout, more alert than ever now, sitting up in my seat.

Suddenly, I remember that _I _was the one who told her to go ahead and hire him in the first place. Gosh. I'm completely losing it today.

"Uh, _you _were the one who told me to do that?" she reminds me and I nod.

"Yeah, sorry," I apologize, relaxing into my seat again. "Totally slipped my mind. Look, can we deal with Jenny later and talk about this current dilemma I'm having?"

"Oh absolutely," Penelope says, Serena nodding in agreement. "We simply figured you might not want to talk about it just yet. So, who are you going to choose?"

"Nate," I tell her immediately because his name is the first one to pop into my head. "We're meant for each other. I know it and now I've ruined things between us because I got distracted, tempted, whatever."

"Blair, how can you be so sure that Nate is the one you're meant to be with?" Penelope asks me quietly and I suddenly remember _Chuck _asking me practically the same question in the elevator.

I'm furious once more, although less so than with Chuck.

"I don't need this from you too Penelope," I let her know, trying to remain as calm as I possibly can. "Nate and I are _perfect _for each other. Everyone knows that! The girls at the office have always been envious of my relationship with him. They call us the perfect couple for crying out loud! How are we _not _meant to be together P?"

Penelope and I are staring each other down, the atmosphere of the room becoming more and more tense.

"Alright, I think we should all calm down and take a step back," Serena suggests wisely, making us both turn to look at her. "Look B, Penelope and I just don't want you to make a decision you'll regret. Let's just talk this through, ok?"

I nod, glancing at Penelope apologetically at the same time for being so short with her earlier.

"Where did the whole you-want-to-kiss-Chuck thing come from anyway?" she clarifies first, silently accepting my apology, and I sigh.

I _really _don't want to think about what happened again, especially since I've been replaying the entire scene over and over again in my head.

"Well, I'm a little claustrophobic, right?" I start and they both stare at me in confusion.

"_You are?_" they clarify in unison. "I never knew that!"

I smile sheepishly at them and nod.

"Just a smidge though," I promise them, illustrating the tiny amount with my hands. "I just hate to admit it because it's like a weakness of mine."

Penelope rolls her eyes and comments, "God forbid Blair Waldorf have a weakness."

"So, anyway, Chuck and I were talking to each other in the elevator just to get my mind off of the fact that we were trapped at the moment," I continue, the scene playing out in my head immediately (as expected). "Suddenly, he asked me why I was with Nate, telling me that I don't really love him and such. I was furious with him of course and then I guess somehow we just got to a point where he was leaning in and he said that he knew I wanted to kiss him too."

"But you pushed him away," Serena hopes, waiting for my response.

"Of course!" I insist, insulted that she would even wonder. "I would _never _cheat on Nate."

Serena nods in satisfaction just as Penelope realizes, "Oh! You must have admitted to Chuck that you _did _want to kiss him, but that it wouldn't be right and then, that's when Richard opened the elevator doors and Nate overheard you!"

"Exactly," I echo and Penelope is smiling wide, having put the pieces of the puzzle together.

"Alright, so now we know the story, but who are you going to choose?" Serena wonders before Penelope adds, "And don't say Nate yet! _Really _think about it B. What do you like about the two of them? Let's start with Nate."

I nod, knowing it would be best to figure out my feelings once and for all anyway.

"Nate," I murmur, really asking myself to be honest about what I like about him. "I don't know. We have history, you know? He gets me. He knows when I want my coffee in the morning. He knows just what to say to make me feel like I'm loved, special."

"You're totally going to choose Nate. I just know it!" Serena squeals, beyond giddy over my confession.

"Hush," Penelope warns her, glaring at her. "Let Blair say everything she needs to about _both _guys and then she'll decide."

Evidently Serena is rooting for Nate and Penelope, Chuck, but neither of their opinions matter to me. I need to make this decision for myself.

"Go on," Penelope urges, waiting for me to speak again. "What else?"

"Well, he's loyal," I say, recalling all the times that Vanessa tried to make a move on him at the office. "He's just a sweetheart overall, you know? He's the kind of guy that every girl dreams of ending up with, a true prince charming."

"Now, the hard part, what don't you like about him?" Serena questions and for a moment, I draw a complete blank.

"Come on," Penelope prompts me. "There has to be _something _about him you don't like. No one's _that _perfect."

I purse my lips in thought, trying to think of something, _anything _I don't like about Nate.

"Well, he knows me well as a person, but the gifts he gets me are terrible," I finally inform them, not holding back anymore. "I mean, the thought behind them are always sweet, but yeah…Um, I guess sometimes, I just find our relationship really boring, like we already know all there is to know about each other. We always have the same routines. We go to the same restaurants, that sort of thing."

"B! You can't expect a relationship to be exciting forever!" Serena tells me, taking my hand. "And is it fair to Nate that you haven't told him how you feel? Boys are slow B. You need to tell them how you feel or they're never going to get it!"

As much I want to tell her she's wrong, she does have a point. I've never told Nate how much I hate what he gets me or that I'm bored with the places he takes me to. I'm always just telling him how much I love everything even though I might not. Maybe _I'm _the problem. Maybe _I'm _the reason why I'm doubting our relationship.

"What about Chuck?" Penelope speaks up, knowing that I'm probably agreeing with Serena in my mind. "What do you like about him?"

Immediately, my mind rewinds to that plane ride.

"The way we first met was exciting I guess," I say, smiling a little to myself. "It was unusual, you know? Especially since he turned out to be my boss and all."

"Go on," Penelope urges and I know Serena is glaring at her.

"Um, he knows things about me that Nate doesn't even know I guess, but to be fair, those extra things he knows are mostly _about _Nate, so…" I trail off, not needing to finish my statement.

Serena nods in understanding and inputs, "So, that totally doesn't count. What else?"

"Well, apart from knowing random facts about me, he actually has a knack for reading my mind. Sometimes I feel like we can just stare at each other and have a conversation, you know?"

"Wow," Penelope breathes and for a moment, I feel like _she's _more enamored with him than I am.

"Hush," Serena mocks her, to which Penelope flips her off.

"Alright, anything else B?" Serena asks, ignoring her vulgar action.

"Uh, well, I think a huge part of it is that I'm intrigued by him," I answer, choosing my words carefully. "I don't really know much about him apart from what the public knows, you know, the whole playboy thing and whatnot, but I just know that there's another side to him. I just really want to be the person to discover it."

"Great," Serena admits with a sigh and Penelope is already starting to smile triumphantly. "Now _I'm _not even sure who I'm rooting for. What _don't _you like about him then?"

I shrug because in all honesty, I have no answer to that question.

"I really have no idea. Like I said, I don't really know him. He irritates me sometimes, sure, but I can't pinpoint exactly what it is about him that bugs me," I inform them both.

"I say go with Chuck," Penelope suggests, turning off her ringing phone, giving me her undivided attention. "I mean, he just has so much potential or rather, you two have so much potential."

"B, the decision is yours, but I have to disagree," Serena insists, looking dead on into my eyes to let me know she's being serious. "All Chuck is doing is giving you that spark that you think has been lost between you and Nate, but like I said before, you haven't exactly been fair to Nate on that account. He deserves to know the truth and how do you know he wouldn't change for you, try to make you happy? Besides, what has Chuck _really _done to prove that he deserves the love of the great Blair Waldorf, huh? If I recall, Nate chased you for over a _year _before you accepted his advances. I mean, Chuck's hot and all and that accent of his is sexy as hell, but beyond that, what has Chuck done to deserve you?"

My God. Sometimes a girl just needs her best friends. I'm almost tearing up at how supportive Serena and Penelope are being right now, but what Serena has said is really getting to me. What _has _Chuck done to prove that I'm not just another girl? Sure. He's _told _me I'm different, but he hasn't really _done _anything to prove it. He hasn't even properly courted me like Nate did.

"Look, I know it's sort of clear I'm rooting for Chuck," Penelope speaks up after a long period of silence. "But the decision is yours B and as your best friends, we really just want you to be happy."

Serena nods in absolute agreement and I pull them into a hug.

"Thanks you two," I whisper before letting go. "I think I'm going to call it a night. I have a lot of thinking to do. I'll see you in the morning, alright?"

"Goodnight B," I hear them both call after me as I retreat to my room, their murmurs become more and more faint as I go.

Half an hour later when I'm lying in bed, I'm still thinking about them both. Nate or Chuck. Chuck or Nate. I'm almost desperate enough to just flip a coin and let the heavens decide my fate, except I'm Blair Waldorf. I don't let anything or _anyone _decide my fate but me.

I sigh. Life was so much more simple before that plane ride. I guess I just need to be an adult about this and realize, I'm not in high school anymore. I need to make an _adult _decision about this. I glance at the watch on the table then. 11 o'clock. I wonder if Chuck's still awake…


	10. Boys

**A/N:** I will try to update as quickly as I normally do, but please note that school has started for me. Reviews are love. Oh and read the entire chapter before all you Chuck and Blair fans freak out, alright?

**Boys**

* * *

I check the clock on the wall again. Ten minutes until eight. He should be here soon. Work was hell today. After my conversation with Chuck on the phone last night, he avoided me all day at the office (although I really shouldn't be surprised I guess). I barely noticed though because I was fielding questions and comments from my colleagues left and right the entire time.

"You _cheated _on Nate? _How could you?_"

"He was _way _too good for her anyway."

"I don't blame her. I would have gone for Chuck too."

"Maybe _that's _why she's been promoted to marketing director."

"Blair, could you ask Chuck to transfer me to the research department?"

"I thought Vanessa and Dan were desperate to climb the corporate ladder. Boy was I wrong."

"I heard she's been having an affair with Chuck for almost _seven _months now. What a whore! Poor Nate."

The only question I was thankful for was Nelly's when she asked, "Blair, could I run some numbers by you?"

My answer of course was a big fat '_hell yes_'! I swear I've never stayed at Starbucks for so long. Luckily, Carter didn't yell at me when I got back. I think he realized how much stress I was under already. Well, that or he _actually _thinks I'm super close with Chuck now and might get him fired or something.

Six minutes to eight. _Shit. _I'm getting nervous.

"_Hello?" I hear him say as he picks up the phone._

_Upon hearing his voice (that sexy voice), I am almost ready to go back on my decision. Almost._

"_You're not in high school anymore," the voice inside my head whispers and once again, I am reassured of what I must do._

"_Blair? Is that you?" he questions, bringing me back to reality. "Come on. I can hear you breathing on the other end of the line."_

"_Yeah," I whisper and he immediately says (and cockily I might add), "So, you chose me, huh?"_

_I close my eyes at his question. I almost want to shout 'yes', but I hold back. Nate is everything any girl ever wants in a guy, I remind myself. He's the only one who'll be able to give me a happy ending. Everything with Chuck is too unknown, too unpredictable, and I like to live by plans. I like to know where I'm headed, who I'll end up with, regardless of how I get there. Most importantly, Nate is the only thing my mother approves of in my life. Without him, I would probably be dead to her (more so than I already am). She knows Chuck's reputation (who doesn't?) and I just know she would hate him (and subsequently, hate me even more)._

"_Actually, Chuck," I muster up the courage to inform him finally. "We need to talk."_

"Blair? Are you alright? You look kind of spaced out," Penelope comments, slipping on her heels, effectively cutting through my thoughts.

She has another client tonight and Serena has a date of sorts with some guy she refuses to tell us about until they're and I quote "serious". I bet she's not telling us about him only because she knows we'll probably hate him or at the very least, disapprove of him. God forbid she be dating a Carter Baizen or worse, a Dan Humphrey.

"Just waiting for Nate," I say, smiling at her, not sure whether I'm trying to convince _her _that I'm happy with my decision or myself.

The expression on her face becomes super serious then and she tells me, "You know Blair, I just want you to know that I'm really proud of you for telling Nate the truth about everything and so is Serena. Now, if things don't work out between you and Nate, you'll know it's because you're not meant for each other, not because of your lies and whatnot."

"It'll work out P," I assure her, instantly remembering my earlier conversation with my boyfriend (yes, still).

Penelope purses her lips in thought at my response, doubting me, but nods anyway, getting ready to leave.

"Just remember B," she finishes before walking out. "It's never too late to change your mind, alright?"

"It'll work out," I stress once more as the door closes tightly behind her.

And I know it will because now that I've been honest with Nate, I know tonight's going to be our best date ever.

Four minutes to go now. _Fuck._

"_Why didn't you just tell me about all of this Blair?" he wonders the moment I finish my confession._

"_I don't know," I answer him honestly, staring into his eyes. "I guess I just didn't want to upset you."_

"_Upset me?" he echoes with a chuckle. "Look Blair. I want to make you happy. You just have to be honest with me. I'm a guy. I try to all the time, but I can't really read your mind. You need to tell me what you want, you know?"_

_I nod, simply thinking about how sweet he is when the voice inside my head interrupts me (again)._

"_Chuck can read your mind," I hear the voice remind me. "You're in denial Blair. Snap out of it!"_

"_I will not!" I shout, but the confused expression on Nate's face then tells me that that was my outside voice._

_Oops._

"_You will not what?" he questions and I blush, desperately trying to think of something to cover up for my outburst._

"_What I meant to say was that what almost happened in the elevator this afternoon won't happen again," I assure him, just as I had practiced so many times in front of the mirror the night before. "Can we just start over?"_

_He smiles at me, taking my hand._

"_I'd like that," he answers and I smile back. "How about dinner tonight at eight? I promise you it'll be the best date of your life."_

"_Deal," I finish and he hugs me, and suddenly, I feel like everything's alright in the world._

If only that had been a lasting feeling, I wouldn't be feeling like I do right now, nervous mixed with slight regret. _What am I doing?_ Maybe when he arrives though and everything kicks into gear, the feeling will go away. I mean, it's natural for me to doubt my decision, right?

My cell phone rings then, causing me to jump.

"Hello?" I speak into my phone, hand on my speeding heart.

"Hey darling," Nate starts before correcting himself. "I mean, hey Blair. Sorry, bad habit. Um, I might be about 15 minutes late, alright? I'll call you when I get there."

"Take your time," I say, actually touched that he remembered not to call me 'darling' anymore. "I'm not going anywhere."

I hang up the phone then and smile to myself. See? I made the right decision after all. This date is going to be perfect.

_Knock. Knock. Knock. Ding Dong._

The bell? Maybe Penelope forgot something. I peek through the peephole and to my surprise, no one is standing there. Hmm. Odd. Still, I swing the door open anyway (against my better judgment). _Oh God._ Chuck. Of course, he walks past me into the apartment without so much as a 'hello'.

"Please come in," I mutter under my breath, shutting the door behind him.

I glance at the clock again out of the corner of my eye. Oh dear God. Nate said he'd be here in 15 minutes! Is it just me? Or is that clock ticking faster than usual?

"You shouldn't be here Chuck," I tell him in a bare whisper, really not wanting to be caught in a bad position again.

He doesn't say anything, turning around to look at me only after a moment of silence and apologizes, "I'm sorry I hung up on you last night."

"_You chose Nate," he merely states the moment I tell him we need to talk. "Wow. I don't even know why I'm surprised right now."_

"_What's that supposed to mean?" I hiss, getting a little defensive (as usual)._

"_I know you and your little perfect plans," he informs me with a laugh. "God forbid one of them derails. All hell would break loose, right Waldorf? What ever happened to just following your heart, huh?"_

"_Chuck, please," I start, fumbling over my words. "I just realized that I haven't really given Nate a fair chance, you know? I've been lying to him about so many things."_

"_Fine," he answers, his voice indifferent, and at that moment, I'd rather he just be upset with me or something, anything. "I understand. I hope you'll be happy Blair."_

"_Chuck," I assure him, my voice quivering slightly (although I pray he won't notice). "We can always be…"_

"_Don't say friends Blair," he whispers before hanging up the phone. "Please."_

_I keep the phone to my ear long after he hangs up, the dial tone still as clear as ever. Suddenly, someone takes the device from my hand and returns it to the receiver. I look up to find Serena standing there. She takes a seat on the bed beside me, wrapping me into her arms._

"_I couldn't sleep," she simply tells me, holding me close. "I kind of knew you were going to call one of them tonight with the bad news. So, who did you end up calling?"_

_I don't even need to tell her who because she can see it in my eyes._

"_You did the right thing B," she whispers and that's the last thing I remember before I drift off to sleep, my best friend by my side._

"Don't be," I make sure he knows, snapping out of my trance.

"I just want to know why you didn't pick me Blair. Is it because of the whole womanizing thing? Are you afraid I won't be loyal to you or something? Because I _can _be loyal Blair. I've just never found the right woman. _You're _the right woman," he informs me and I can feel my heart fluttering at his words.

Ten minutes.

"Prove it," I say in my mind, hoping he can read it (yet again).

He shakes his head, knowing precisely what I'm thinking at that very moment.

"I can't unless you give me a chance to," he answers, taking a step closer to me now, and I instinctively take a step back.

He stays where he is, reading my retreat as rejection (even though that really wasn't my intention). We continue to stare at each other until my phone rings and I just know Nate is on his way up. _Shit._

"You have to go Chuck," I tell him honestly. "Nate is on his way up. Please."

I take his hand and start pulling him towards the door.

With one foot out the barrier, he turns back and says, "I'll go, but for the record Blair, I think I…"

He pauses, seemingly unable to finish his statement.

"What Chuck?" I ask, half urging him on, half wondering what he's about to say.

"…I can't be just friends with you," he finishes, which was totally not what I was expecting him to say (I seriously need to stop watching romantic movies). "Goodbye Blair."

"Goodbye Chuck," I whisper back because it's the only thing I can really say in response, but he's already gone.

Seconds later, as I'm still trying to compose myself, Nate arrives at the door (as expected), flowers (peonies, my favorite) in his hand. He's got a gift too, but I'm not even excited to open it anymore. Leave it to Chuck to ruin my perfect plans again. _No. _I'm not letting him get to me.

"You look beautiful, Blair," Nate comments, interrupting my thoughts. "Are you ready to go?"

_As ready as I'll ever be._

"Thanks and yeah," I tell him, all smiles. "This night is going to be perfect."

* * *

Alright. This night officially sucks. Halfway through the dinner now and I'm _still _waiting for those sparks to kick in. I don't get it. Nate's doing _everything _right! He's taken me to this really romantic restaurant that we've never been to before. We're having a candlelight dinner and he even bought me the most gorgeous pair of diamond earrings (although I'm suspicious that Serena helped him pick them out). _What's wrong with me?_

"So, anyway," I hear Nate continue, smiling at me. "I'm really hoping they'll all be in favor of implementing those changes I suggested at the meeting the other day. I know Chuck's opinion is probably going to be the most important, but all things aside, I think he'd go for it, yeah? I mean, business is business and we're talking tons of money coming into the company."

"Yeah," I agree with him, nodding my head. "I think he'll go for it. Don't worry about it so much."

And can we _please _stop talking about work?

Thirty minutes later, he _does _stop talking about work, but only because we've finished dinner and are now getting into a cab heading back to his place. This is it. This is where the sparks are going to fly. The date was so textbook perfect that I'm almost _sure _that the sex will be absolutely explosive tonight. I'm going to be as smitten with him as I was at the beginning of our relationship by morning. Those butterflies in my stomach will emerge once more! Ok, breathe Blair. _Breathe._

"After you," he says, gesturing for me to enter the apartment when we arrive.

I step inside first, but the moment I hear his footsteps follow me, I turn around, looping my arms around his neck. We always have sex in the most boring places like on a bed or a couch. Tonight, I'm thinking the kitchen table to spice things up.

I place a soft kiss on his lips before beckoning him to follow me and he smiles, doing exactly as he's told. He lifts me up and set me down on the table, placing a trail of kisses down my neck. Any minute now and I _know _I'll feel that spark.

He's unbuttoning my shirt now, but in all honestly, I just feel like laughing. To my utter horror, I actually _do _hear a laugh only to find out seconds later that _Nate _is the one who's laughing. Now, I'm just confused. _What the fuck is going on?_

I sit up immediately, alert, my eyes following him as he gets off of me and takes a seat in one of the kitchen chairs (the one closest to him). He drags a hand across his face tiredly and sighs. His shirt is rumpled and slightly open, I note.

Five minutes later and he still hasn't said a word. The suspense is _killing _me! Am I expected to _do _something?

"Blair, what the hell are we doing?" he asks finally and I realize I've actually been asking myself the same question.

"I don't know," I tell him and he leans forward slightly in his seat, looking at me.

"Come here," he says and I take the seat next to him, buttoning my shirt back up as I go.

Eventually, he takes my hand in his and states, "I think we're both trying to fix something that's been broken here Blair."

And for some reason or another, his words just make me want to cry. I have absolutely _no _idea why. He probably notices that I'm tearing up because being the gentleman that he is, he gets up and returns moments later, tissue box in hand.

"I'm really sorry Nate," I apologize and I mean every word coming out of my mouth. "I truly thought tonight would be perfect, a brand new start for us."

He chuckles, trying to make me feel better about myself.

"Well, I thought so too Blair," he admits, staring at nothing in particular. "I put a lot of effort into making sure that everything would be perfect tonight. Believe me, but for once, I felt like I was trying too hard."

"Trying too hard?" I echo, unsure of what he's trying to convey to me.

"What I'm trying to say…" he clarifies. "…is that I love you and I think you're more than worth it, but I _like _those things that you hate. I _like _country music. I _like _buying unique watches to wear. I…"

"I get it Nate," I interrupt him before noting, "But isn't a huge part of relationships about compromise?"

Nate smiles, reaching over to touch my cheek ever so lightly.

"Yeah," he answers, nodding his head. "But not when one of us is the only one doing it."

I shove his hand away.

"Hey!" I warn him, getting defensive. "That's not…"

But I trail off because what he's saying _is _true. He's always the one trying to make _me _happy, making sacrifices for this relationship. Have I been selfish? Do I even _want _to attempt to make it up to him now?

"Besides, why compromise when I'm guessing you've found someone you actually work well with," he comments, searching my eyes for a reaction. "There were rumors about you two long before the elevator incident Blair and I know you went to meet up with him at Desire that night."

"_You knew?_" I confirm, in total shock, and he nods.

"I followed you that night because I was still unconvinced you'd be ok, even with your pepper spray," he confesses with a grin, but I'm sure I still just look mortified.

"I'm really sorry Nate," I whisper again, sounding like a broken record. "I never meant for any of this to happen."

"I know," he assures me before adding, "We'll always love each other Blair, just not in that happily-forever-after way. Trying to fix what's broken is not going to get us anywhere."

I pull him into a hug then and he returns it, holding me close. I finally know what he means. Moments later, he speaks up again, interrupting our moment.

"He better make you happy Blair," he whispers into my ear, a smile on his lips. "Or I'm going after his British ass."

It's my turn to laugh now.

"And make him work for it," he adds as I wipe away the last of my tears (most of them happy now). "You're worth it."

"Goodbye Nate," I murmur, getting up to leave, and he nods, returning the sentiment before following me to the door.

One more long hug and then I'm gone. I can almost hear him through the wooden barrier, whispering.

_Goodbye Blair._

* * *

The next morning, I'm feeling great. The moment I got home last night, I spilled everything to Serena and Penelope who were both so glad (as I was) that Nate and I were going to remain friends.

"Well," Penelope had said. "At least now you know for sure that you two aren't meant for each other."

The moment I arrive at my office, I can already spot Nelly standing in front of the door.

"I heard!" she squeals, running over to me immediately, and I can already see my coworkers gathering around for Blair's yes-Nate-and-I-broke-up special. "I always thought you two were the perfect couple B! What happened? So, you chose Chuck?"

"We thought so too Nelly," I respond, putting my key into the lock. "But it was mutual and Nate and I are still really good friends."

"So, you chose Chuck?" she repeats as I step into my office, the door open for her to come in.

She doesn't make a move though probably because she needs to get back to her department soon.

"No, I didn't," I say loudly, making sure everyone in the department can hear me. "I'm single, happy, and fabulous."

Then, I turn to look at all the gawkers (for the first time).

"What are you all looking at? Get back to work!" I shout and they all scurry back to their desks in fear.

_Damn _that felt good. Forget boys. I'm on top of the world right now.

* * *

_Fuck. _Forget the whole on top of the world thing, for two reasons.

First of all, I have a lot more work to do now that I'm marketing director. In fact, I'm starting to appreciate my old job a whole lot more. Then again, the power and money that comes with this position is totally worth it.

Secondly, I cannot stop thinking about Chuck. I keep replaying our many encounters over and over again in my head. Where do I even start with him? Should I go up to his office and talk to him? I mean, does he even know that Nate and I broke up? Then again, does he even care anymore? Maybe he's already moved on.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

"Blair Waldorf, marketing director," I say the moment I pick up the phone.

Damn. That sounds good.

"Miss Waldorf, Mr. Bass would like to see you in his office," Ms. Monotone informs me before hanging up.

Darn. I was going to ask her what about it. Does he know? Is he going to ask me out? Or worse…Oh for God's sake! I'm almost there anyway. I'll find out soon enough.

I walk past Ms. Monotone without so much as a glance in her direction, heading straight for Chuck's office. I pause at the double doors, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles in my dress before knocking on the door and stepping into his room (too impatient to even wait for his permission to enter).

"Blair," he greets me without looking up from his morning paper. "I heard about your little breakup with Nate."

His tone is taunting and I already know he's just asked me up here to tease me, to say 'I told you so'.

"Oh yeah, from who?" I ask, half curious, half just wanting to say something.

"Does that really matter?" he questions in return, his attention on me now. "I just wanted to let you know that just because you broke up with Nate, doesn't mean that I'm going to ask you out again. Just remember that _you _were the one who rejected me, alright Waldorf?"

_What?_ That smug son of a…

"Please," I scoff, rolling my eyes, my hand on the door, ready to leave. "What makes you think I'd go out with you _just _because I broke up with Nate anyway? Maybe I rejected you earlier because I just plain don't like you. Ever thought about _that _Bass?"

"Uh, no actually," he answers with a smirk (of course), making no move to stop me from leaving.

"_Make him work for it,_" I hear Nate's voice in my head then, and I have one foot out the door already.

I turn back to look at him once more, but he's already absorbed back into his paper. What an asshole! _Ugh!_

By the time I'm back at the department, I'm steaming mad. How _dare _he ask me up there just to toy with me! I'm Blair _fucking _Waldorf. _Nobody _messes with me like that and…

My anger immediately dissolves though the moment I step into my office. There are flowers everywhere of every kind, size, and color imaginable. I reach for one of the cards on the arrangement nearest to me.

_**Will you go out with me? - C**_

I reach for all the other cards and read them. They all say the same thing. I feel so terrible for calling him names now (even if only inside my head). He just called me up there to distract me is all. _Oh my gosh!_ Are those truffles on my desk? I _love _truffles!

Ok, wait. Calm down Blair. He's just trying to win you over with gifts. You can't be bought!

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

I pick up the phone.

"Blair Waldorf, marketing director," I say as per routine.

"Chuck Bass, CEO," he mocks me before asking me again, "Will you go out with me Miss Waldorf?"

"No," I answer, although I just know I'm going to give in any moment now. "Not in this lifetime Mr. Bass, remember?"

"Of course," he simply states, ignoring my blatant rejection. "I'll pick you up at eight tomorrow."

"_No,_" I repeat, not wanting to give in too easily.

He doesn't respond and I don't say anything more either, silence taking over our phone conversation.

"Eight thirty," I finally relent, popping a truffle into my mouth, savoring it.

"Great, but dinner reservations are for eight fifteen," he informs me before hanging up the phone, just _needing _to have the last word.

Oh so he just _knew _I was going to go out with him? Ugh. He's insufferable. Then why am I smiling like a complete idiot right now? _Geez. _Get a grip Waldorf!


	11. History

**A/N:** I know. I know. How dare she not cover the first date in this chapter? I have my reasons though. For one, I wanted to slow the Chuck and Blair relationship down a tad and for another, I needed to introduce Damien into the story. The Blair-getting-revenge-on-Jenny storyline needs to be developed too after all. Review anyway despite your disappointment? I swear the next chapter will cover their first date and nothing else. It will be worth the wait.

**History**

* * *

As I swing open the doors to the department, Starbucks in hand, everyone turns to look at me nervously. Oh come on! Just because I'm one of the marketing directors now doesn't mean I'm a (complete) bitch.

On second glance though, they actually seem to be glancing _behind _me, not at me. Naturally, I swivel around to see what the fuss is all about. I mean, I'm pretty sure Carter's in his office already. He's _always _in the office before any of us are.

Oh figures. Vanessa Abrams. Well, I can't blame them for looking so scared then I suppose. _Seriously._ Vanessa is _not _a morning person. Someone should do her a favor and tell her that (like me). I also take note of her new purse then (knockoff much?).

"Blair," she starts, before I can say anything, her nose in the air as she strides past me. "Can I see you in my office for a moment?"

She's on her cell phone, so she doesn't even bother to wait for my response (which would be a big fat 'no' by the way). All eyes in the office are on me, anticipating for me to make my move. They all know that any moment now I'm going to make some snide remark that will put that wannabe in her place.

"Oh nothing mom, just talking to my _assistant_," I hear her add then, stressing the word 'assistant' as she finally steps into her room.

I am completely taken aback for a moment. Her _assistant_? _Oh hell no._ I follow closely behind her, ready to give her a piece of my mind when I notice that my office door is slightly open.

I stop in my tracks, peering at the small opening in confusion. Odd. I could have sworn I locked the door before I left last night. I always do. Hmm. Maybe I should take a look around my office before paying Vanessa a little visit and ripping her a new one.

At first glance, nothing seems amiss, but then, something in the corner of my eye catches my attention. Aha! One of my desk drawers is slightly ajar too. Whoever was in here really sucks at not leaving any evidence of them having been here behind. I rifle through my files quickly to see if anything's missing. Sure enough, the marketing plan Carter asked us to cook up earlier for today is gone.

Vanessa. It _has _to be her! I bet she stole my file and is planning to pitch my idea to Carter today, to pass it off as her own! The nerve! And to think people at the office claim that she used to be a girl with a strict moral code. I guess this is what desperation does to you.

Too bad I'm one step ahead of that wannabe bitch though. I planted that file as a decoy. I knew she'd try to steal my idea. My real (and better) plan was with me all night. I can't wait to see the look on her pathetic face when she finds out she's been played by me (again).

Honestly, when will this girl ever learn? She should just give it up already.

"Blair, my office, _now_," Carter says, barging in without notice.

Seconds later, he does the same to Vanessa.

"Vanessa, my office, _now_," he echoes, returning to his office at lightening speed.

_Ugh. _Lack of manners much? I grab my notes and am ready to leave when I spot a sticky note on my computer monitor.

_**Thinking of you. - C**_

I chuckle upon reading his little message. Wait until I tell Serena and Penelope about this. Who knew that Chuck Bass could be such a romantic on the inside?

I purse my lips in thought for a moment. Wait, no. This could all be an act on his part. He could be playing the I'm-a-romantic card just to get me into bed, lure me into his trap. I bet he's done that with other girls before.

Then again, he _did _seem super genuine when he told me I was the right woman for him the other night and that he would be loyal to me. Maybe he _has _changed because of me? I am _so _confused.

Still, either way, he won't win me over so easily. I'm taking Nate's advice and making him work for it. We'll see how Chuck does on our first date tonight and then go from there.

_Then why do I feel like I'm falling already?_ Get a grip Blair. Meeting first, boys later. Right. Off I go.

As I head out of my office, Vanessa steps out of hers too. As usual, we glare at each other as we both stride into Carter's office, all eyes in the department on us now (except for Hazel, who is always touching up her makeup for some reason or another). We break our gaze on each other when Carter coughs to get our attention. He closes the door behind us and shuts the blinds, preventing a potential audience. I can almost hear the groans of disappointment coming from the staff outside.

"Well, I already read through Vanessa's proposal this morning," he announces, throwing my decoy file onto the desk. "Excellent work as usual. It was a little different than most of the work you normally do Vanessa, but impressive none of the less. Keep up the good work."

Upon hearing his compliments, she starts beaming like a little school girl who just got another gold star from the teacher and I am _so _ready to wipe that smile off her face.

"So, Blair, what do you have for me?" he wonders seconds later, stretching out his hand to receive _my _project file.

I hesitate (only pretending to of course), biting my lip uncertainly.

"Oh gee Carter," I begin, glancing between him and Vanessa anxiously.

I am even wringing my hands together for the added effect. I should _seriously _be an actress.

"You should give her an extra day or two Carter," Vanessa practically purrs and at that moment, I have to control myself from smiling victoriously already. "Not all of us can come up with great ideas in such a short while you know."

I smirk and the look on her face instantly becomes one of confusion.

"You're absolutely right Vanessa," I say, my usual air of confidence returning. "Except I'm not one of those people. In fact, I had the time to come up with _two _great ideas in such a short while, one of which you already know about, no? Luckily for me, I kept the better one for myself. Carter?"

One direct glance at the decoy file lying on the desk and I can already see her turning green. Carter, however, merely takes my file from my hands, probably not giving a shit about who came up with what idea as long as the idea was a good one, one that Chuck would buy.

As he's skimming through my work, I turn to observe Vanessa. She's no longer as pale as she was before, but she's still absolutely catatonic right now. Victory is sweet and I'm not even through with her yet.

"Great work Blair," Carter compliments me, standing up to shake my hand in congratulations. "On both proposals. I will, however, be sending the second one up to Mr. Bass for approval. As for you Vanessa, consider this a warning. Your previous work has been impressive enough. There really is no need for you to steal Blair's work. Now both of you get the hell out of my office."

"Thank you Carter," I say (for everything), turning on my heels to leave.

Vanessa follows my lead and I can almost see the steam coming out of her ears. She is absolutely livid. What a beautiful beginning to a beautiful day!

As we both walk out together, I whisper into her ear (try as I might not to), "And tell your mother or anyone else again that I'm your assistant and I'll be sending a copy of your sex tape to her. You know, the one of you and Carter? _Trust me._ Your mother will be _super _proud of you then if she isn't already."

This time, _I_ return to my office without waiting for a response. Moments later, she slams her office door with so much force that I can almost feel the ground shake. Well, someone's a sore loser. Lesson number one Vanessa, breeding always wins out in the end.

* * *

As I open the door, I witness Serena whispering something very quickly into her phone before hanging up. I cast a suspicious glance in her direction, but she brushes me off. I bet it's that guy she's been secretly seeing. I am just _dying _to meet him now. I mean, how bad can he be that she's keeping him from us?

"Blair? What are you doing home so early?" Serena wonders, an innocent smile gracing her face.

Fine. I'll give her a break just this once.

"My meeting with the CEO of Desire finished earlier than I expected," I reply, grinning, phone call forgotten.

Just as I anticipated, of course, her expression is one of utter shock.

"The CEO of _Desire_?" she echoes, mouth still hanging open. "As in the guy you threw Bass vodka all over?"

"Hey now," I correct her, waggling my index finger at her in mock disapproval. "I did not _throw _the drink _at _him. I _spilled _the drink _on _him, remember?"

"Yeah, sure, whatever, same difference," she mumbles, hurrying me along. "So, what happened?"

"Well, I called him up earlier today," I mention, shrugging nonchalantly as I go. "I demanded to see him and we smoothed things over. He hesitated at first, sure, but when he realized I just wouldn't take no for an answer, he changed his mind. He actually said he admires my determination S!"

I mean, I didn't really _need _his approval or anything, but hearing him say those words was a huge confidence booster. I'm really getting the hang of this being in control, on top of the world thing. For the first time in a long while, I feel like the person I was back in high school. Look out world! I'm _still _the head bitch in charge!

"Oh gosh B! I'm so proud of you," she squeals, her eyes full of delight. "And you have a date with Chuck tonight too! See? I told you everything would work itself out in the end!"

I shake my head, laughing at her enthusiasm. Serena and her optimism. It never gets old.

"Home so soon?" Penelope asks me the same question that Serena did moments ago, wandering out of her room to greet us. "Need to get ready for that hot date, huh?"

She sends a wink my way, a smirk on her face. She's totally teasing me, but I'm too happy to care.

"Oh and we totally have your back B!" Serena exclaims, sharing a look of understanding with Penelope. "We put a few gorgeous dresses on hold for you at Bendels. You will absolutely _love _them!"

"And so will Chuck," Penelope quips, her mischievous grin still very much in place.

"You can pick out something else entirely if you'd like of course," Serena quickly adds. "Our picks are merely suggestions."

Wait. _Bendels?_ Well, I guess I do have some savings. I'm not poor by any means. Actually, I'm quite well off, but like I mentioned before, I still haven't cleared that huge debt with my mother and I'd really like to get that out of the way first. Every single time I see her she nags me about it. _Every single fucking time._ The worst part is that little bitch Jenny Humphrey does too. Compared to her, being nagged on by my mother is a blessing.

"And the best part is," Serena continues, and she's so pumped now, I'm almost afraid she'll just collapse into a useless heap on the floor at any moment. "We're putting it on one of Penelope's client's credit cards!"

I purse my lips in skepticism at her words.

"Can you _do _that?" I ask Penelope hesitantly and she shrugs casually in return.

"He gave it to me for emergency purposes," she reveals seconds later, justifying what we were about to do. "And this is most _definitely _an emergency."

"I don't know P," I say, biting my lip, still unsure. "That seems…"

"Oh hush!" Penelope interrupts me, getting her purse and dragging me out the door. "He's a regular client. Besides, he's apparently in love with me or something like that. He won't mind."

"Did he _say _so?" Serena wonders, half jokingly. "Or is that just your ego talking?"

"Hilarious Serena," she drawls sarcastically in response, rolling her eyes. "No seriously. Have you ever considered quitting this whole acting thing and becoming a stand-up comedian instead? You might have more luck there."

Serena glares at her for her comment, but Penelope pays her no mind.

"Anyway, I think he's like _legit _in love with me. For one, he's said he loves me more times than I can count and for another, he keeps asking me to quit being a prostitute and be his one and only so to speak," Penelope continues, deciding to share a bit of her (other) life with us.

She rarely talks about her work with Serena and me, so when she does, we're usually extremely interested and thus, attentive.

"And get this…Most of the time, we don't even have sex. We just lay there in bed and talk about stuff," she finishes with a shrug. "Yeah. So, anyway, getting back to the more important topic at hand, he won't mind me using his credit card. Can we go now?"

"Wow, he seems like he's really interested in you P," I comment as we all climb into the waiting cab.

It's all really romantic in a weird, twisted way I suppose.

"Bendels, and step on it," she instructs the taxi driver before addressing me. "Yeah, I guess. He keeps telling me like _all _the time how I'm the one he's been looking for or some other bullshit like that. He's getting married to some girl his parents are forcing him to marry by the way in like three weeks in case you two are interested in knowing. He told me he'd call off the wedding right away though if I accept his proposal ."

"Well," Serena starts, wanting to know even more. "Do you love him back?"

Penelope laughs at our ignorance as we enter the store.

"It doesn't matter if I do," she states simply, waving to one of the employees to help us out. "First rule of the business, _never _fall in love with a client. It will only screw things up."

That's honestly the _stupidest _thing I've ever heard. With the prices she gets paid per night (she's hinted at more than $5000 before), these guys are all rich. If she really loves this guy back, we're talking true love _and _piles and piles money for life. I call bullshit on her excuse.

Since when did Penelope care about rules anyway? She's totally just trying to keep the real reason she's not accepting his proposal from the two of us. I'd ask her, try to get her to confess, but the thing is, secrets are never hidden for long anyway (I should know). I'll just have to be patient and wait for her to let the _real _reason slip sometime.

"Oh my gosh! I was wondering why this all sounded so romantic! This is just like Moulin Rouge! Your Satine and this guy is Christian!" Serena reveals, smiling proudly at her discovery.

I snap out of my reverie then.

"I _adore _that movie," I input just as Penelope responds bitterly, "Good. Then I'm saving myself from dying and him from being miserable for the rest of his life."

The look on her face tells us that we should definitely drop the subject immediately and so we do. Maybe we'll bring up this mystery guy some other time (and Serena's too).

"Dresses for Miss Waldorf," the lady announces, walking up to me, several dresses in hand.

I am absolutely breathless upon seeing the selection. Seriously. Can I have them all? They're just all so gorgeous and wonderful. Oh wow. I have _got _to try the red one on first. That just _screams _Blair Waldorf.

For the next half an hour or so, I'm putting on a little fashion show for my best friends.

"Too plain."

"No. Try the first one again, would you?"

"Eh. Put that one in the maybe pile."

"Too revealing."

"Oh, we picked that one out as a joke."

"Gorgeous, but again, the color is only so-so for me."

Then, the negative comments stop and the two of them are staring at me in complete awe.

"I'm guessing this is the one?" I question, although I'm pretty sure I know the answer already.

"Uh, _hell yeah_!" Serena shouts, coming over to my side. "Seriously B. You _have _to get this one. It's hugging your body in all the right places. It's not too revealing, you know, but shows _just _enough skin to tease him a little."

"It's all about the teasing, not about the pleasing," Penelope agrees, quoting Glee, and I throw one of my discarded dresses at her.

"Be serious P. Is this the one?" I ask, wanting to make the perfect choice for my first date with Chuck.

"Girl, _I'd _do you right now," Penelope jokes before adding, "You know…If I went that way…"

"Funny P," I drawl, rolling my eyes. "Alright. We're taking this one. Just let me go change."

As I return to the dressing room, I can't help but sneak another peek at how good I look in this dress. They were right. This dress _is _perfect. I mean, the front of the dress is more conservative - elegant, but conservative - but the back…Don't even get me started. There's a low (but still classy) dip in the dress stopping right above my waist. I hate to admit it (ok, not really), but I look _smoking hot _in this number.

"Are you done B?" Penelope shouts just beyond the curtain. "Come on! We've got to meet someone before you prep for your hot date. Hand me the dress. I've got it."

"Thanks P," I respond, stepping out of the dressing room, dress in hand. "But who do we have to meet exactly?"

"Damien," she fills me in, grabbing my dress and heading towards the counter.

I glance at Serena who shrugs. She has no idea who Damien is either.

"Oh wait," I guess, following her. "Is Damien that guy who wants to rescue you, sweep you off your feet?"

She glares at me and says, "I don't need rescuing, or sweeping, or whatever, but no. Damien's the one who's helping us get past _that thing's_ security system."

She turns to the lady behind the counter then and instructs her, "Just put it on Mr. Grimaldi's card, please and thank you."

"Yes, of course," the lady responds, used to charging the card whenever Penelope bought something from the store. "Have a nice days ladies."

We return the sentiment and pile out onto the street. I love how my shitty week has probably turned into the best one ever.

"Coffee shop," Penelope speaks up, pointing slightly in front of us.

As we walk in, the fresh aroma of brewing coffee awakens our senses. Penelope approaches someone at one of the tables at the far end, sitting down beside him and we do the same. I take note of Damien for the first time then. He's definitely younger than I expected, but he comes highly recommended by one of Penelope's many high-profile clients, so I'm sure he knows what he's doing.

"You must be Blair," he addresses me before doing the same to Serena. "And you must be Serena."

"Damien, right?" we ask in unison and he nods.

"Let's get down to business," he says, cutting to the chase, unfolding a piece of paper and setting it down on the table. "This is a blueprint of the entire building. Jenny's office is here. She has this place on lock down. I mean, she's got motion detectors, different codes for every door. You name it, she's got it."

"So, we can't get in?" Serena asks and I roll my eyes at her ignorance.

Obviously he's building up the moment to where he says, "However, because of how _ridiculously _smart I am, I've gotten past _all _of her security measures."

"I am an absolute professional Serena," he assures her, just as I predicted. "Of course I was able to get past all of her security measures."

See? Boys. They're all so predictable (well, except Chuck). I'm still working on him.

"You just name the day and time and I'll be there, shutting down every system as you go," he explains, and we're all listening intently now. "Jenny's smart though. She has this thing where ten minutes after an unusual deactivation, the police will be notified, so you've got to move fast, got it? We'll be in communication at all times through ear pieces."

"Sounds perfect," I tell him, already getting pumped about our mission.

It's like the three of us are Charlie's Angels or something! I mean, we _could _have hired someone to do the job for us, but we ultimately decided to do the job ourselves. This whole revenge thing would just be _that _much more fun (and fulfilling) that way.

"What do I owe you?" I ask, getting out my checkbook, praying it's not that much.

Surprisingly, he waves off my inquiry almost immediately.

"Nothing," he assures me, explaining himself. "Let's just say I did some jail time for that girl, but I never got what she promised me. Now, I want my revenge."

_Oh wonderful._ Now I'm more curious than ever as to the details of the story, but the look on his face tells me I better not ask for them.

"Well, thanks Damien," Penelope speaks up in my place, getting up to leave. "We'll be in touch."

He nods, no spoken response, watching us leave. _That boy is weird._ I wonder what he was in jail for or rather what little Jenny Humphrey _should _have been in jail for. Hmmm. Maybe Chuck will know…

When Penelope and Serena are out of earshot, I take out my cell phone and press number 3 on my speed dial (Penelope and Serena come first obviously).

"Miss me already Waldorf?" he teases, the moment he picks up the phone.

"Please," I respond, rolling my eyes. "I'm not the one who left a cheesy thinking-of-you message on someone's computer monitor."

"Oh wait, that was _your _office?" he questions, pretending to sound completely mortified. "My mistake. That message was meant for someone else - another sexy brunette I have my eye on at the office."

"You're impossible," I hiss and he just laughs.

"Seriously now, what did you call me for?" he asks and I am reminded of the reason as to why I called him in the first place.

"I need a favor," I tell him without hesitation. "Could you get your PI to do a background check on Damien Daalgard? He has some history with Jenny and I want to know what it is."

"For you, anything," he replies almost instantly. "I'll bring whatever my PI comes up with to dinner with me tonight, alright?"

_Wait, seriously?_ That was easy.

"Alright," I agree uncertainly, still waiting for the catch. "Thanks Chuck."

"You're welcome Blair," he finishes, before hanging up. "See you at eight tonight."

"Eight thirty," I remind him, but he's already gone.

_For you, anything._

Tonight _cannot _come soon enough.


	12. Victrola

**A/N:** I know you have all been waiting very patiently for this chapter, so thank you for that. School has been keeping me extremely busy and even _that _would be an understatement. I would have posted this yesterday, but the site was down. I hope this chapter was worth the wait. Review? Pretty please?

**Victrola**

* * *

"A limo just pulled up the curb!" Serena shouts as I put the finishing touches on my makeup.

"Alright," I acknowledge, grabbing my purse. "I'm heading down then. Don't wait up."

"You're not going to give it up to him on the first date already, are you?" Penelope clarified, eyebrow raised, muting the television for a moment.

"No!" I assure her, insulted she would even ask me such a question. "I just meant that I might be coming home late is all, like at midnight."

"Oh," she responds, realizing her mistake, turning the volume up again. "Have fun then and remember, make him work for it."

"Yeah, I know, I know," I respond, having heard that suggestion from various people one too many times.

As I head downstairs, I prepare myself mentally for what's ahead. You'd think I was preparing for battle rather than a date, but whenever Chuck is involved, I usually have to.

The moment I step onto the sidewalk though, my plans take a complete detour. I can hardly breathe, not because I'm nervous or anything ridiculous like that, but because Chuck looks absolutely delectable leaning against the side of his limo like that.

"Waldorf," he comments, grinning at me. "Beautiful as always."

I give him a small smile in response, pretending like I don't really care about his opinion.

"Thanks," I say, adding nonchalantly, "You look good too I guess. I like your bowtie."

He quirks an eyebrow and laughs and suddenly, I remember.

"_...think people who wear bowties are pompous asses…"_

"No you don't," he reminds me, opening the door for me to get in. "You hate bowties. You told me so on the flight. In fact, I wore this one tonight _just _to tick you off."

I roll my eyes at him. I should've known. Well, two can play at this game Bass.

"Well," I correct him as I slide onto the leather seat. "Actually, I don't hate _bowties_. I just hate the pompous _asses _who wear them."

"Oh right," Chuck teases, sliding in after me. "My mistake, but I guarantee Waldorf, that you'll be singing a different tune after this date. These peonies are for you by the way."

He reaches for the lovely bouquet in front of him and offers them to me.

"Thank you," I murmur, taking note that he remembered not only my favorite flower, but that my dream date would start off with champagne and truffles.

He opens the box and offers one to me. Oh wow. These taste _so _good!

"Did you end up pushing back the reservation?" I question as I pop another one into my mouth. "I mean, you ended up picking me up at eight thirty, so…"

"I actually cancelled them," he informs me instead, glancing out the window for a moment to see where we are. "We're heading straight to Victrola."

Wait. _What?_

"So, we're not eating?" I clarify, really hoping we are because I'm actually _starving _at the moment.

He watches me, a look of amusement on his face.

"Waldorf, do you always have to know _everything_?" he wonders, a deep chuckle escaping from the hollows of his throat. "Just relax and enjoy this date, alright?"

I huff in mock frustration, crossing my arms across my chest and leaning back into my seat, staring out the window.

"Fine," I mutter just as the limo pulls up to the burlesque club.

He gets out of the limo first, offering me his hand seconds later. I take it in slight hesitation. Who knew Chuck Bass could be such a gentleman? I guess I still have a lot to learn about him.

"Where is everybody?" I wonder before we even enter the premises.

Usually, people are lining up to get into this place!

"Again with the questions," he notes before he replies, "Not here. I closed the place down for the night. The only other people here this evening besides us will be Scott, our personal chef, and Gabriel, our server for the evening."

He gestures towards one of the booths near the front of the stage and I slide in, him following after me.

"I already told the chef to make all of your favorites," he informs me and I am completely taken aback for a moment.

This is probably the first time anyone has ever ordered for me. I mean, usually I like to make my own decisions, but for tonight, this is a nice change of pace I guess. Still, I can't let him think he's won so easily.

"How can you be so sure I feel like my favorites tonight Bass?" I challenge him and he smirks like he just _knew _I was going to ask him that question.

"Alright," he says, flagging down our waiter. "Fair enough. Gabriel will take your new order then."

I panic for a moment. Well, I don't _really _want to order anything else, but…

"Surprise me Gabriel," I ask of him and he nods before confirming with Chuck, "So, should I cancel the previous order then Mr. Bass?"

Seconds later, I realize Chuck's looking at _me _for an answer (smirk still in place of course). _Basstard._

"No," I answer swiftly and Chuck waves Gabriel away, smiling victoriously now.

He waits until Gabriel is out of earshot and wonders, leaning in close, his breath on my ear, "So, tell me Waldorf, how much do you want to know what I know?"

He is _so _talking about Damien, but I can hardly muster a response when he's invading my personal space like this. I shift a little over to the right, but he barely notices the motion.

"Not as much as you want to tell me what you know," I respond smoothly and he looks amused (as usual).

"Alright," he starts, passing me the file by his side. "So, you already know Damien went to jail for Jenny."

I nod and he continues, "Well, turns out he was in jail for drug dealing."

"So, Jenny was the drug dealer then?" I deduce, way beyond interested right now.

Who knows? I could use this information against her in the near future.

"For about two years, yeah," Chuck answers as the food arrives at the table.

_Hmmm._ Everything looks so good.

"Yeah, including your _date_," the voice in my head adds.

"_Shut up!_" I silently respond.

"So, why did Damien take the fall?" I ask him, taking an oyster in my hand.

"Because he loved her," he tells me after a moment and my mind is reeling at the idea because honestly, who could _possibly _love Jenny Humphrey (except my mother)? "She promised him that when he got out of jail, she would be his, so he took the fall for her, except she never went through on her promise."

"I guess that's why he wants revenge on her now, but I know a bit about Damien myself," I add, lips pursed in thought. "Isn't _he _a drug dealer too?"

"At the time, no," he says as Gabriel comes over to refill my glass. "He quit about a year before that."

"Interesting," I murmur, taking a sip of the ruby red beverage. "Well, thanks for the information. I just wanted to know."

"Are you going to use that against her?" he wonders and I eye him carefully trying to figure out his intentions.

"Probably not," I tell him, suspicions evaporated. "My only goal right now is to prove that that design was mine."

He eyes me for a moment, completely lost. That's when I realize that I never told him the details of my plan to take Jenny down.

"One of the dresses she had at her fashion show the other day was my design," I explain and he seems to be genuinely interested in what I'm about to say. "Now, I'm out to prove that to the world."

"Do you need any help? I know people, you know? I could have her taken care of in a second," he offers and I smile gratefully at his gesture.

I'm actually really surprised, you know? That I'm having an _actual _conversation with Chuck, one where we're not snipping at each other or teasing each other. This is actually kind of…_nice_.

"I'm fine," I inform him. "I actually have Serena and Penelope helping me out already and Damien of course."

"Oh I'm sorry," he corrects himself, sarcasm dripping from his voice. "When I said I knew people, I meant _professionals_. You can't _seriously _think that those three are going to help you get your revenge do you?"

"Hey, those are my best friends you're talking about!" I chide him, defending them immediately. "Well, not Damien, but you know what I mean. They're really just lookouts for me anyway. I'll be the one doing the dirty work."

"Oh, I don't doubt it Waldorf," he drawls, sending a wink in my direction.

I roll my eyes. _Ugh._ I swear he's driving me insane! One moment I think I'm falling for him and then the next, I just…_Ugh!_

"Yeah, well, getting revenge on her myself will just be all that more satisfying, you know?" I clarify, choosing to ignore his comment and he nods in complete understanding.

"Yeah, I definitely know what you mean," he murmurs and I can sense a change in his mood.

He looks downright depressed.

"Is something wrong Chuck? You seem…" I trail off, not knowing exactly what vibe I'm getting from him.

He puts on a smile immediately upon hearing my concern, his mood reverting to a happy one again. I know he's just pretending though.

"The whole getting-revenge-by-yourself thing just brought back some memories is all," he fills me in and I put my hand over his immediately in comfort before he emphasizes, "_Bad _memories."

He glances down at where my hand is on his and only then do I realize what I'm doing. I pull back from him, composing myself.

"Uh, so, are you going to share?" I ask teasingly, hoping to get past the whole my-hand-on-his thing. "Or is this another one of your secrets that you just can't tell me about?"

He laughs.

_I like hearing him laugh._

"This one I can _definitely _tell you about," he assures me, shuffling a little closer.

Gabriel realizes we're not going to eat anymore and whisks away our plates. He refills my wine glass, bringing Chuck another scotch. Smart guy.

"Well, to keep the long story short, the whole my dad being in an accident isn't really true," he reveals and I find my mouth hanging wide open. "He _did _die in a car accident, but believe me, my uncle had every intention of killing him."

"Wait," I confirm, looking at him. "Your _uncle _killed your father? Why?"

"To say that he hated him would be an understatement," Chuck answered, downing his drink, signaling to Gabriel for another. "My father got everything he ever wanted, the woman he loved, a successful company, you get the idea."

"Wow," I comment because I'm genuinely shocked by these details. "So, how did you find out?"

"I didn't need to find out," he says, closing his eyes and leaning back into his seat. "He told me so himself after my father's funeral."

Suddenly, I remember Chuck telling me that he had had his revenge. _Oh God._

"What did you do to him?" I wonder in a bare whisper, secretly hoping that I wasn't on a date with a murderer at the moment.

"I know what you're thinking Waldorf, but no, I didn't kill him, although I should have," he admits, a melancholic smile on his face now. "I mean, I was sort of upset, so naturally, I beat him to a pulp and had him fired him from the company immediately after his confession. Besides that though, he got off Scott free."

"Why didn't you tell the authorities or something? I mean, why would you let him get away with something like that?" I question because I honestly can't think of _any _good reason as to why he would do that.

If someone had killed my father, you bet your _ass _I'd want him behind bars.

"I don't know," he answers me honestly. "I just had this gut feeling that that's what my father would have wanted me to do. He really loved him you know."

"Right," I comment, nodding my head, biting my tongue to prevent myself from saying anything further.

I never expected such serious conversation on our first date.

"Yeah, well, I think I've bored you enough," he tells me, standing up, offering me his hand. "How about we get this date back on track? Care to dance?"

"There's no music," I note, but I take his hand anyway, letting him guide me to a spot on the floor.

"I think Gabriel has that covered," he murmurs, signaling to the waiter at the same time to start the music.

_Every night in my dreams  
I see you, I feel you  
That is how I know you go on _

I slap him playfully on the arm upon hearing the music.

"You did that on purpose," I hiss, although I'm not mad at him in the least bit.

"Guilty as charged," he admits, holding me close again. "I figured I could use this song to my advantage. Think about it. You cry. You need a shoulder to sob into. Mine's available. I think you get the idea."

"Very funny," I say, staring into his eyes. "I hate to disappoint you Bass, but I'm not going to cry. Not this time."

_Love was when I loved you  
One true time I hold to  
In my life we'll always go on _

"Fine," he replies, shrugging his shoulders. "It was worth a try. What's so sad about this movie anyway?"

I stop in my movements and he does too.

"Have you _seen _it?" I squeak, a little shocked by his question. "The ending was _tragic_! Jack _died_!"

_Near, far, wherever you are  
I believe that the heart does go on _

"Yeah, but at least they found each other before that happened," he retorts, starting our slow dance again. "You know, some people never find their true love Waldorf. Jack and Rose were luckier than most."

_Wow._ I don't know what I'm more surprised about, that Chuck has _actually _seen Titanic or that he has such a fresh perspective on the Jack and Rose relationship.

"Fair point Bass," I finally concede and he opens his mouth, wanting to say something more, when his cell phone rings.

_You are safe in my heart  
And my heart will go on and on _

He checks the caller ID and glances at me apologetically.

"Sorry, but I _really _have to take this," he informs me, signaling for Gabriel to turn off the music. "I'll be right back."

"Sure," I answer, walking back to the booth slightly disappointed.

I really thought we had a moment back there. Oh well, the song ended anyway.

Ten minutes later and I'm _still _waiting for him to come back. I glance around the premises, but I can't spot him anywhere.

"Where's Mr. Bass?" I ask Gabriel, who's bringing out the desserts.

"I believe he's taking the call in his office miss," he reveals, placing several sweets in front of me before leaving me again, probably to get some more.

Maybe he's on some important business call. I mean, what did I expect? He's the CEO of Bass Industries for crying out loud! I'll just wait patiently for his return. _Hmm._ This cake looks _good_.

Another ten minutes later and I'm starting to get irritated. Seriously. What could _possibly _be taking him so long?

I motion for Gabriel to come over to my side once again, asking him, "Do you know who Mr. Bass is on the phone with? I mean, it's been twenty minutes now."

"I'm sorry miss," he apologizes. "I have no idea. It does seem important though. Is there anything I can do to make your wait more bearable?"

"No, thank you," I let him know, reaching for my cell phone as he makes his leave again.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

"Problem already B?" Penelope asks immediately upon answering the phone. "Hang on, I'll put you on speaker."

"Is something wrong B?" Serena echoes and I can hear her shuffling closer to the phone. "Bad date?"

"Actually, the date was wonderful up until about twenty minutes ago," I tell them, starting to get a little upset myself.

"Spill," Serena squeals excitedly and I can just see Penelope rolling her eyes at her on the other end of the line.

"Well, we had dinner, we talked, we danced, and then suddenly, he got some important phone call he had to take," I reveal, glancing at the clock then. "It's been twenty five minutes now."

"Maybe it's an urgent business call B," Serena suggests, trying to make me feel better about the whole thing. "He's the CEO after all. I mean, it's not like he planned the call, you know? He's probably as miserable as you are right now."

"I'm not miserable," I insist, and I'm _not_.

A little disappointed maybe, but not _miserable_.

"_Or_," Penelope inputs and she hesitates for a moment. "This could be the same important phone call he had to take that night at Desire."

"Oh wow," I muse, biting my lip. "I never even thought about that. I asked him about the phone call the other day, remember? And he refused to tell me anything about it."

"Like I said B," Serena interrupts me. "Maybe it's some huge business deal that's about to go down and Chuck wants to keep it confidential."

"_Or _he's actually seeing someone else already and he's just toying with you on the side," Penelope offers instead, and my heart drops at the idea.

I remain silent, thinking the possibility over. After our date tonight though, up and until that phone call, I find it hard to believe that he would hurt me like that.

"_P!_" Serena chides her, probably shaking her head at her in disapproval.

"_What?_" she echoes, her voice as cool as ever. "I'm just saying. I mean, we all know his reputation. He's probably an expert at keeping each of his conquests his dirty little secrets by now. Think about it B. He's been on the phone for what? Almost _thirty_ minutes now? Must be someone _really _important."

"Don't listen to her Blair," Serena insists, speaking a little louder to get through to me. "I mean, it's a possibility, but a small one."

"I don't care," I say, getting ready to hang up. "I'm not waiting for him anymore. I'm coming home. See you girls in a bit."

"That's my girl," Penelope responds. "The Blair I know waits for no one."

"But I still think…" Serena starts, but I've hung up already.

I grab my purse, making a move to leave when Gabriel stops me.

"Going somewhere Miss Waldorf?" he wonders and I tell him the truth.

"Yeah, home," I admit, walking past him. "Tell Mr. Bass I'm leaving, will you?"

"Yes miss," he responds obediently, before adding, "Will you be taking Mr. Bass's limo?"

"No, I'll just take a cab," I finish and he nods curtly before walking away, probably heading towards Chuck's office.

Well, this date didn't turn out the way I expected. On a scale of 1 to 10, I'd give it a 7. _Max._

About twenty minutes later, I'm home, and I've never been more grateful. Suddenly, my cell phone rings. Probably Chuck. Oh wait, no. Serena.

"I'm on my way up S," I tell her, answering the call.

"B, a limo just pulled up to the curb behind you," she simply says before hanging up.

I swivel around just in time to see Chuck getting out of the vehicle.

"Wait, Blair!" he shouts, coming after me, even though I'm not going anywhere. "I'm really sorry about the phone call, but like I said before, I _had _to take it."

"Who was it?" I ask him, still slightly ticked off at him.

He hesitates and I already know that whoever called him that night at Desire called him tonight as well.

"I can't tell you Blair," he informs me apologetically and somehow, his words set my feet into motion.

"What could _possibly _be more important than our first date, Chuck?" I question when he grabs my arm to stop me, whirling me around. "And I _know _that that was the same person who called you at Desire that night, so it was _definitely _not a business call."

"Look, I can tell you _anything _Blair," he says and I stay where I am to hear him out. "But I really can't say anything about that phone call. I _swear _that it's not another girl if that's what you're thinking. I meant it when I said I was serious about you."

"I wasn't thinking that," I insist immediately and he smiles when we both notice that I'm biting my lip.

"I know this wasn't how you expected our first date to turn out Waldorf, so how about a do over tomorrow night? Come on. I'll let you plan the whole thing. We'll go wherever you want to go and I promise you, no phone calls."

"Not a single one?" I clarify and he nods.

"Not a one," he assures me and I can feel my slight anger towards him dissolve.

"Ok Bass, tomorrow night then," I agree, walking into my building (finally) as he watches me go. "And leave your limo at home, ok? We're doing this _my _way."

_I hope you like carnivals Bass._


	13. Carnival

**A/N:** I really liked Louis from this season of Gossip Girl, so I had to include him in the story. Enjoy and please review!

**Carnival**

* * *

My eyes flutter open the next morning to find Serena and Penelope sitting on my bed.

"Go away," I murmur, rolling my face into the pillow, reminding them, "I get to sleep in on Saturdays."

Serena merely shrugs at my declaration and I can feel her weight shift on the bed.

"Alright then," she says, standing up to leave, Penelope following close behind her. "We'll just go to the carnival ourselves then. Don't worry about it B. We'll find a way to entertain Chuck."

"I can think of one way to keep him entertained," Penelope offers, grinning at me suggestively.

Now, I know she's just joking around and everything, but I'm officially awake upon hearing her words. _No_ one's entertaining Chuck today, but me.

"Ok! I'm up! I'm up!" I insist, already running into the bathroom. "I'll be out in fifteen."

"Good. Breakfast is on the table," Penelope informs me just as Serena suddenly remembers, "Oh and your mother called. She wants you to call her immediately. She needs your help with something I think."

I roll my eyes at the news, waving them off. _Great._ Just what I need to start off this supposedly perfect day - _my mother_. She only ever calls me to nag or to ask me for help, so I just _know _this isn't going to be pleasant.

I suppose it would be worse though to keep her waiting, so I promptly punch her number into my phone. I'll put her on speaker, while I get ready. I really don't want to be late for my second first date with Chuck. It's kind of exciting actually. I've never been on a _second _first date before.

As I'm starting to get into my outfit, I hear my mother's (bitchy) voice on the other end of the line.

"Finally, darling," she chides me at once (and honestly, I would expect nothing less). "Who sleeps in this late on a Saturday?"

"It's nine in the morning mom," I tell her, my tone not exactly pleasant either (can you blame me?). "Hardly what I'd call late."

"Of course you don't dear," she says, starting to get impatient with me. "I just wanted to call and let you know that I'm changing your post at the carnival today. You'll be doing a shift at the kissing booth instead."

"Uh, no way," I counter, shaking my head, even though she won't see the negative action. "Too many disgusting guys line up for the kissing booth. You're _insane _if you think my lips are going anywhere _near _them. These lips are reserved. I thought Jenny and Vanessa were going to alternate between each other. What happened?"

"Seriously Blair," she huffed, disappointment in her voice. "I'm asking you to do this _one _little thing for your mother. It's one two-hour shift! I need this charity event to be successful. Can't you understand that? How are you going to sleep at night knowing that you ruined the carnival? _Hmm?_ I gave you birth young lady or did you forget that?"

_Please._ The whole kissing booth thing would have been a flop anyway with Vanessa and Jenny at the helm.

"Stop being so dramatic," I spit out instead and I instantly put my hand over my mouth in regret.

_Oh God._ Where did _that _come from? I'm about to apologize for my words, but then, I stop myself. I really have nothing to apologize for, so I remain silent.

"_Excuse me?_" she practically shouts back and I quickly say (lest I lose my confidence and give in to her), "My decision is final, _mother_. I'm _not _doing the kissing booth shift. Get someone else to do it and _no_, I don't care if I ruin your carnival. I'm already doing you a huge favor by showing up."

I'm about to hang up the phone then, but she's a whole lot quicker than me. _Damn it._

"I guess you also did me a favor then when you broke up with Nathaniel?" she retorts, and her words have me frozen in place.

I am completely taken aback for a moment. _Shit._ She _knows_.

"How did you find out?" I whisper, before changing my tone to a confident one again. "And besides, _I_ was the one dating him, not you. Our breakup has absolutely _nothing _to do with you."

"Jenny heard it from one of your little colleagues. What was her name? Oh yes, Vanessa Abrams. _How could you Blair?_ You _knew _how much I liked the boy!" she responds as patronizing as ever.

"Then, _you _date him mother," I advise her sarcastically, but she avoids my comment (probably deeming it to be highly inappropriate).

"Anyway, are you seeing anyone new now then?" she continues and I already know where this is going. "Because my friend Catherine has a lovely son and…"

"_Goodbye _mother," I say, hanging up the phone for real this time.

Only then do I realize what I've gotten myself into. Seriously. Why don't I think things through? Nate's going to be there, Chuck's going to be there, and worst of all, my mother's going to be there. With my luck, the three of them are bound to run into each other during the event. _Fuck my life._

* * *

"I think I'm lost Waldorf," Chuck announces through the phone, but I already spot him standing smack in the middle of field.

He's looking around, trying to take everything in all at once. Carnivals _can _be a little overwhelming I suppose.

"You're not lost Bass," I say, walking over to him, waving in his direction. "I see you."

"Oh, so we're _both _lost then?" Chuck questions the moment he spots me, and he seems to be half serious. "Because you don't come off as the kind of girl who's into carnivals Blair."

"Hello to you too," I answer, rolling my eyes at him. "For the record, I'm not really into carnivals. This is just a charity event my mother is hosting."

"Ah," he comments in complete understanding. "So, you've been forced to volunteer I take it? Not that I'm complaining of course. I mean, the view is really damn good from where I'm standing."

He glances down at my outfit and I blush. I totally forgot I had it on. One thing my mother knows is that sex sells. Every girl helping out at this event today are in these short, pink sundresses. All I know is that we're going to be raising a hell of a lot of money for this charity with the amount of guys here today.

"Something like that," I tell him, before I add apologetically. "I'm only working for an hour or two and then I swear, I'm all yours for the rest of the day."

He grins at my words and I can almost see the dirty thoughts running through his mind.

"Noted," he simply says, smirking, offering his hand to me and I take it.

_We're holding hands!_

Right. Breathe. Act like you don't care.

_Jesus! I'm acting like such a school girl!_

"You know," he whispers into my ear, pulling me close, and I hold my breath. "I'm actually flattered you brought me here today for our do-over date. So, I get to meet your parents already, huh? I didn't think you were _that _into me."

I give him a playful shove.

"Just seeing my mother getting a heart attack over meeting you will be worth it," I let him know and he gets a mischievous twinkle in his eye. "I mean, sure, you're rich, which is a quality she no doubt loves, but with _your _reputation…?"

"Now I'm torn Waldorf," he admits with a smirk, interrupting me. "On the one hand, being your boyfriend, I want to impress your mother, but…"

"You're _not _my boyfriend," I correct him teasingly and he puts his hand on his heart in mock horror. "This is our first date, remember? You only get a second if you get through today."

"So, today is like a test then," he concludes, leaning in again to murmur, "I like a good challenge Blair."

"Good to know," I muse, pretending that his closeness to me right now has absolutely no effect on me.

Thankfully, he seems to buy my act, continuing from where he left off before I interrupted him earlier.

"Anyway, before I was rudely interrupted," he starts again, looking at me pointedly. "I was going to say I want to impress your mother, but I also…"

"I know Bass," I interject again, knowing exactly what he's thinking. "Thanks, but I actually kind of told her off myself this morning."

He raises an eyebrow then. It's clear that he doesn't believe me.

"Really? How did that go?" he wonders, an amused smile already tugging at the corner of his lips, just waiting for me to get caught in a lie.

_Too bad it's the truth Bass._

"She brushed it off like she does everything in life that doesn't rub her the right way," I answer him with a shrug. "Anyway, come on. I'm the cotton candy girl for the next two hours. You can help me out."

I pull him along, but he holds back.

"Uh _no_," he exclaims, his face dead serious at the moment. "I've seen the uniforms the guys have to wear. They're pink too. I don't mind seeing you in the short, pink dress, but there is no _way _I'm wearing pink _anything _Waldorf."

"Real men wear pink Bass," I tell him, presenting the statement to him like a challenge.

He did say he enjoys challenges, didn't he?

He still doesn't move, standing firm, so I sigh in fake disappointment and inform him, "Fine. You don't have to volunteer with me I guess. You can just go and explore the carnival by yourself, while customers simply stand there and ogle at me in this outfit. I'll come and find you when my shift is over."

He grabs my wrist immediately upon hearing my words, dragging me towards the cotton candy stand, already barking at a passing volunteer to get him a uniform.

"Not a chance in hell Waldorf," he assures me, and I have to laugh at his reaction.

* * *

An hour in and I can tell Chuck is starting to get frustrated.

"Hey buddy," he says for the umpteenth time to our latest customer. "Eyes on me."

"Sure, whatever," the teenager bites back, taking his cotton candy and rejoining his friends.

"Chuck, he was like sixteen!" I make sure he knows and he grits his teeth.

"Doesn't make a difference Blair," he mutters, serving the next customer.

I see Nelly walking my way then and I cast her a look, begging for her to take over for me. She smiles immediately in understanding and makes her way over, pretending our silent conversation didn't just happen. Bless her.

"Uh, Blair," she offers, smiling wide as she approaches our stand. "How about I take the rest of your shift? You go ahead and get changed and I'll take your uniform."

"Sounds good to me," Chuck mutters into my ear just like I knew he would, and I can't help but let a giggle escape from my lips.

"Thanks Nelly," I say, giving her a brief hug before ducking into the volunteer tent with Chuck.

"So, do I get to watch you change for working so hard?" he teases me, his hands on my waist, ogling customers forgotten.

I loop my arms around his neck in response and sigh, "Nope. Guess you'll just have to settle for a kiss Bass."

He leans in for the kiss, but before his lips meet mine, someone interrupts our moment. _Seriously. _Can't a girl catch a break?

"Blair, shouldn't you still be working?" my mother questions, waltzing in, casting a disapproving glance in our direction.

"Nelly's taking over my shift," I say as-a-matter-of-factly, still holding on to Chuck defiantly.

_He _steps away from me though, heading towards my mother.

"Chuck Bass," he offers, extending a hand towards her, but as expected, she doesn't take it.

"I know who you are," she informs him, ordering another volunteer around before returning her attention us. "You have quite a reputation Mr. Bass, rich as you may be."

"My reputation doesn't speak for the person I am now. I assure you," he says in return and I'm genuinely shocked at how well he's handling my mother.

Her hard expression seems to soften for a moment, but my eyes could very well be playing a trick on me.

"I see and are you _dating _my daughter?" she clarifies, suddenly acting like she's some concerned parent looking out for her child's well being.

"Yes mother," I tell her, grabbing Chuck's hand, already ready to leave. "We're _dating_. He's my _boyfriend _and there's _nothing _you can do about it. Can we get out of our uniforms now?"

She remains silent for a moment, but finally agrees, "Yes, of course. Lovely to meet you Chuck."

"Uh, you too Mrs. Waldorf," he answers, but I'm already pulling him away.

* * *

"Sorry about that," I apologize the moment we're outside again. "I know it wasn't exactly pleasant."

He shrugs.

"No problem," he assures me, taking my hand again. "Your mother's a complete gem compared to some of the clients I have to deal with at work. By the way, I couldn't help but notice that you referred to me as your boyfriend back there."

He's smirking at me again. Clearly what happened earlier with my mother isn't bothering him in the least bit.

"Yeah, well, don't rub it in Bass," I warn him before adding, "You know, we don't have to continue our date here. We could go somewhere else. I'm free now anyway."

"Actually, I've never really been to a carnival before, so how about you be my guide?" he suggests. "What'll be Waldorf? The Tilt-A-Whirl or…"

"We'll start you off small Bass," I tell him, leading him towards the merry-go-round.

"You've got to be kidding me," he mutters under his breath when he notices where we're going, but loud enough for me to hear.

"_Hey!_ I'll have you know that the merry-go-round is one of my favorites," I inform him defensively and he puts up his hands in surrender.

"Ok, ok," he agrees, giving up. "But only if I get to ride the pink one."

* * *

"I think I'm going to throw up," Chuck warns me as we get off the Tilt-A-Whirl. "Seriously, I'd rather ride those stupid teacups again."

I laugh. I've never had so much fun on the Tilt-A-Whirl, especially since Chuck was mumbling prayers under his breath the entire time, even though he insisted that he wasn't afraid. Knowing one of his weaknesses thrills me to no end.

"You know, I would never have guessed that you had such a low tolerance for rides," I comment, teasing him.

He grimaces at me. He hates being teased.

"Yeah, well, depends on what kind of rides they are Waldorf," he retorts, winking at me suggestively, clearly having recovered form his momentary nausea. "And who's giving them."

"You're _disgusting_," I respond, feigning displeasure.

"Yes, I am," he answers, leaning in for a kiss.

Finally! We're going to kiss and we're not going to be…

"Blair! There you are!" I hear Serena shout, running towards me.

_Is God for real right now? Ugh!_

"I've been looking for you everywhere," she continues, breathless. "Look, I hate to interrupt your date, but you have to come and help Penelope. Louis' fiancée is here."

All thoughts of kissing Chuck fly out the window then and I glance at him in worry. He merely nods, understanding my concern, since I told him about Penelope and Louis sometime between the house of mirrors and the bumper cars.

He takes my hand and we follow Serena, trudging across the field to where Penelope is. When we get there, however, things are worse than I imagined. A crowd has gathered. I want to intervene, but Chuck holds me back.

"Let her fight her own battle. Only intervene when things start to really get out of hand," he suggests and Serena looks at him like he's crazy. "Running in to rescue her from that girl now will make that girl think she's won."

"Good point," Serena agrees, knowing full well that Penelope treasured her pride more than anything.

I guess all we can do for now is stand here and watch, silently rooting for our girl.

"We're getting _married _in less than two weeks, so do us all a favor and stay the _hell _away from him," the girl seethes, her face inches away from my best friend's.

"For the _last _time, I don't intend to ruin your fairytale wedding," Penelope insists, not backing down, but clearly, the girl is too outraged to listen to her.

I can see my mother trying to get the crowd to disperse out of the corner of my eye. She looks so distraught right now, I almost feel sorry for her. Maybe I should help her.

_Nah. Maybe later._

"Good! Because our parents have been planning this wedding for awhile now," she clarifies, pointing a finger accusingly at Penelope. "Besides, do you really think Louis is _serious _about you? He's _royalty _for Christ's sake! And _you_? Well, you're a prostitute or do your friends and family not know that?"

The moment the words leave her mouth, the carnival suddenly becomes dead silent or so it seems, all eyes trained on them both until Penelope says, "Yeah, well at least I'm getting some you uptight bitch! Guys wouldn't screw you for free. I can quit anytime darling. You can't quit an ugly ass face like that."

"That's it," I say, dragging Serena with me, knowing this was the right time to intervene. "This needs to stop right now. Mother, call security."

She's still in shock from learning that one of my best friend's is a prostitute, but somehow my words get to her because she makes her way through the crowd, shouting for security.

Just as we reach Penelope, we hear a voice shout, "Poppy, what the hell are you doing here?"

We all turn to identify the voice. From the look on Penelope's face, Serena and I just know this is Louis. He glares at his fiancée before looking a little further and notices Penelope standing there. His face falls, turning back after a split second to confront his fiancée.

"_You didn't_," he spits out, clearly upset with her.

"_You _weren't going to end things with her, so I though I'd do it _for _you," she huffs, standing her ground.

His security detail arrives then as does my mother's security team.

"Get that girl out of my carnival," she demands and they do as their told at once.

She's taken away kicking and screaming, Louis completely ignoring her cries for help. He's staring at Penelope and her at him, while Serena and I are simply standing by her side, not knowing what to say or do. I glance at Chuck then. _God this is so awkward._

"Penny," he whispers, taking a cautious step towards her.

Serena and I look at each other in amusement regardless of the seriousness of the situation we're all in at the moment. _Wait._ He calls her _Penny_? Geez. If things weren't so messed up right now, it would be adorable.

"Just go," I hear her whisper in response, head hung low, and immediately, I'm reminded of my role as her best friend.

I signal for Serena to lead her away as I approach Louis, and Chuck, being the perceptive guy that he is, is helping my mother get rid of the remaining crowd now. Most people lost interest when the crazy one left anyway.

"I really love her," he tells me after a moment as I lead him away. "Can you tell her that for me?"

I shake my head.

"Look, I want to help, but you should tell her yourself," I say, hoping he'll understand. "And when you do, it'd probably be better if you weren't engaged."

He looks at me for a moment, seemingly puzzled, but then he smiles.

"I know what I must do," he simply assures me, getting into his limo. "Thank you."

"Never a dull moment with you, is there Waldorf?" Chuck asks me as I watch Louis leave.

I turn around to face him, noting that the crowd is gone now.

"I'm really sorry," I let him know for the millionth time that day, but he assures me, "I wouldn't have it any other way. Really. One of the best dates I've ever been on Waldorf."

"I thought you said you've never dated anyone before me," I challenge him, eyeing him carefully.

"Well, if they never get a second date, it hardly counts as dating, right?" he reminds me, eyeing me back.

"True," I say after awhile, grinning up at him, and he whispers, "So, do I get a second date? I mean, it probably won't be as exciting as the one you planned for us today, but…"

"Just kiss me already Bass," I demand, having had enough of our dancing around each other.

And he does and for once (THANK YOU GOD!), we're not interrupted.


	14. Espionage

**A/N:** Please keep in mind that Blair will always find a way to come out on top in the end, alright? Also, compared to previous chapters, reviews have lessened. Are the more recent chapters disappointing or something? Oh and I will be on vacation over the long weekend, so the next update will take a little longer than usual. Please review! I love hearing your thoughts on this story.

**Espionage**

* * *

I still can't wipe the smile off my face as I walk into the apartment that night. After Chuck took Penelope and Serena home (he insisted), we went out for dinner at one of my favorite restaurants. The result? I've decided to include him in my plans to take Jenny down and believe you and me, it's going to be epic.

"Well, at least _you're _happy," Serena comments, coming to greet me at the door.

"Oh God," I sigh, chiding myself for being so insensitive. "How is she?"

"I finally got her to eat dinner," Serena tells me the good news first, unfortunately adding, "But she hasn't said a word to me since we got back. She noticed a couple of reporters covering your mom's event snapping photos of the incident. She's probably afraid that the whole world will find out about her being...you know."

"You can say prostitute you know and they won't," I assure her and she waits for me to elaborate. "Louis paid them all off."

"How do you know that?" she wonders before her eyes widen in shock. "_Oh my God!_ Are you helping him or something?"

"Keep your voice down," I hiss, dragging her into the kitchen where we won't be overheard. "Look, I know I shouldn't interfere, but we both know that she loves him and he loves her. I want her to be happy Serena."

"Well, so do I. Did you talk to him? Is he going to call off the wedding?" Serena asks, starting to get excited.

I shrug.

"I have no idea," I say, really hoping he will though for my best friend's sake. "But I'm certain he has something big cooked up to win her over."

"He better," she whispers, looking at me worriedly. "I've never seen Penelope this upset before. She's always the 'whatever happens, happens' kind of girl, you know."

I am about to answer her when I'm interrupted by the sound of a screaming voice.

"Go _away _Louis!" I hear Penelope shout.

She's stalking out of her room, cell phone to her ear.

"Go _away_! I never want to see you again!" she screams and I turn to look at Serena, eyes drenched in worry.

Her expression mirrors mine and she motions towards the package of popcorn on the countertop to indicate that drama will soon ensue. I nod in agreement just as Penelope flips her cell phone closed.

She looks extremely angry, throwing open the window before heading back to her room again. She returns moments later, gifts in her hand, probably all from Louis.

"Take these and give them to your fiancée!" she yells as Serena and I walk over, hoping to calm her down a bit.

"Penny, please!" I hear him exclaim, probably trying to dodge the items she's throwing at him at the moment.

I hear them clatter to the floor. I hope Penelope is being selective about what she's throwing at him. Didn't he buy her a diamond necklace from Tiffany's awhile ago?

"Stop calling me that!" she warns him, throwing down the last of the boxes, and I recognize the Tiffany's box among them (she'll regret that in the morning, guaranteed). "You _don't _get to call me that!"

"I'm done with her," he assures her, ignoring her cries of anger. "I called off the wedding, ok? I don't care if my parents want me to marry her. I love _you_. _You're _the one I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Serena and I smile at each other upon hearing his words, watching the drama happen from the other (open) living room window. He's such a sweetheart.

"But I'm a whore remember?" Penelope yells back, her vulnerability starting to show. "She announced it to _everyone _at the carnival today! How am I supposed to live in this city anymore? It'll be all over the papers by morning!"

"No it won't," he promises her before making another, "And I'm not leaving here until you agree to marry me."

"You can wait down there forever for all I care, but the answer is still no!" she bites out before slamming the window shut.

If the two of them make anymore noise, the neighbors are going to complain. That or they're all going to pop some popcorn and watch the free show with Serena and me.

She turns away from the window eventually and demands, "Ignore him. Let's watch a movie or something."

Serena and I close our window as well, thinking it best to listen to her.

"P, he really loves you," I speak up at the risk of being killed, walking towards her. "Maybe you should hear him out."

"Yeah," Serena echoes, following my lead. "Did you know he paid off all the paparazzi at the carnival? I'm serious. Every _single _one. That's why he told you that what happened today wouldn't be in the papers tomorrow."

"Not to mention he called off the wedding for you!" I add and I can see Penelope is thinking over our words. "His parents probably hate him now."

"I'm not royalty," she whispers the obvious and I've never seen her look so unconfident before.

"You're _way _better than royalty," I assure her, putting my arm around her shoulders supportively. "You're the woman he loves, royalty or not."

She hesitates, so Serena finishes, "Give him a shot P. I'd give anything to have a prince knocking on my door with a marriage proposal."

"Look, I don't want to talk about it anymore, ok?" she informs us, grabbing a movie from our DVD collection. "So, if you two are really my best friends, you'll respect that."

Not wanting to upset her more than she already was, we take our seats on the couch and remain silent. Penelope proceeds to pop in one of our favorites, Mean Girls (of course). This time though, none of us are really paying attention (then again, we already know this movie by heart). Penelope _seems _like she's concentrating on the movie, but Serena and I know who she's really thinking about.

Half an hour later, Louis' shouting has stopped.

"You see?" Penelope interrupts the movie herself, grabbing the remote to pause it. "He's gone, just like that. That's why I'm not going to marry him. Sure, he loves me now, but tomorrow, what if someone better comes along? I'll be dumped and left heartbroken and I've been through that more than enough times in my life. The only difference is that this time, there'll be that extra step of signing the divorce papers."

I purse my lips in thought at her confession, wondering what the best way would be to go about this problem. Evidently, her past is making her insecure about her future.

"P," I start, being careful with my words. "I think you need to take risks in some relationships in order to get the rewards."

"Yeah?" she wonders, asking, "So, what rewards have _you _gotten from dumping Nate and dating Chuck instead?"

"I'm happy," I answer simply and she rolls her eyes at my predictable response.

Serena raises an eyebrow at me upon hearing my answer.

"I was happy with Nate," I clarify, not wanting to make it sound like I was miserable while I was with him. "But Chuck _gets _me, like _really _gets me, and that makes me happy. I don't need to put too much thought into the way I act around him and such, you know?"

"There's so much more at stake for me here though," she points out then, looking to Serena for her vote on the matter, to which she nods in agreement. "I mean, so let's say I accept his proposal. What will his parents think of me? They'll never let an ex-prostitute into the royal family, even if I quit! I'll just be heartbroken a little later on. That's all."

"They don't have to know," Serena tells her and I nod in agreement. "No one's going to tell them. If you're worried about Poppy, I'm sure Blair can get Chuck to dig up some dirt on her. We'll use it against her to shut her up."

"You'd do that?" she questions as if she even needed to ask.

"There's nothing I wouldn't do for you or Serena," I assure her, adding (to show her how serious I am). "In fact, I'd choose the two of you over Chuck any day."

"Really?" she clarifies, admitting (jokingly I hope), "Because I sure as hell wouldn't."

I give her a playful shove.

"Aw!" Serena squeals, pulling us into a hug. "I love these moments."

"So, come on P!" I say, freeing myself from their grasp. "What else is stopping you from saying yes? We'll deal with the girl _and _kick his ass if he hurts you somewhere down the line. We promise."

She acknowledges out promises, but still doesn't look thoroughly convinced.

"It doesn't matter anyway," she speaks up finally, getting up from the sofa, heading towards the window again. "He's gone. Comes to show how much he loves me, huh?"

"Well, it's raining pretty damn hard outside," Serena notes, following Penelope in her footsteps. "He's probably in his limo waiting for you or something."

I'm up seconds later when Penelope's jaw drops and Serena exclaims, "_Oh my gosh!_ He's still here! Not to mention how _delicious _he looks in the pouring rain."

"_What?_" I shout, already by her side. "Penelope, you should…"

But she's already gone, our apartment door swung wide open.

"Come on!" Serena yells, grabbing me by the arm. "If you think I'm missing this next bit, you're insane."

"Coming!" I answer and the two of us run down the stairs at lightening speed, not even bothering to wait for the elevator.

We stop just outside the doors, giving Penelope and Louis their space.

"_Are you insane?_" Penelope shouts, trying to mask how much she cares about him. "You're going to get sick out here!"

"I don't care," he says, shivering, grabbing her hand forcefully, and her umbrella falls to the ground. "I'm not leaving until you say yes to my marriage proposal. I don't care if there's a flood, an earthquake, or whatever, I'm staying right…"

He doesn't get to finish because her lips are on his and at that moment, Serena and I both really wish we had popcorn because honestly? It doesn't get any better than this.

When they finally pull apart, Louis sneezes and Penelope turns to us and asks, "Is it ok if he stays over tonight? He should warm up, maybe have some hot chocolate or something."

We nod at once, but Serena warns them (and I'm glad she does), "No extracurricular activities for tonight though alright? Blair and I live here too you know."

Penelope laughs, agreeing to our terms just as Louis sneezes again. God these two are so adorable.

* * *

"Wow," Chuck comments on the other end of the line. "Are you sure you didn't just summarize some cheesy romantic movie for me?"

"No!" I defend myself. "I'm serious! I can't believe it happened either."

"Jealous Waldorf?" he muses and he seems genuinely concerned, like he feels like he hasn't been that good of a boyfriend or something.

"A little," I tease him, wondering, "Any plans to serenade me in the pouring rain Bass?"

"Not really, no," he answers, filling me in on the reasons why, "First of all, I haven't really done anything for you to hate me yet and secondly, were you to hear me sing, you would probably hate me even more."

"You're exaggerating," I call him out, smiling. "Your singing voice can't be _that _bad Bass."

"It really is," he responds, but I can tell his mind is no longer on our conversation. "Look, I have another call coming in. I'll pick you up after you have brunch with your parents, ok?"

Phone call? My thoughts drift to that mysterious caller again. _Stop it! You just have to trust him._

"Yeah, ok," I echo just as I walk into the restaurant. "Later."

He returns the sentiment and then I hang up the phone. I see my father giving me a tiny wave from the corner of my eye. _Fuck._ Jenny is here too? Why? I thought my mother said it would just be the three of us today. Great. Smile and nod Blair. You're putting your plan of revenge into action tonight anyway.

"Blair, lovely to see you," Jenny says the moment I take my seat.

"Uh huh," I respond, causing my mother to shoot me a look of disapproval.

"So, Eleanor tells me you're seeing the CEO of Bass Industries now," she starts, a wicked smile upon her face. "Nate must have been devastated. I mean, the poor thing. He was _so _in love with you."

"Yeah, well, people move on Jenny," I tell her, matching her smile. "You know, like you did with Damien?"

"Whose Damien?" my mother asks as Jenny's face falls at my words. "I didn't know you were seeing someone Jenny dear."

"I'm not," she insists, making it seem like I'm the delusional one. "Ever since I became a fashion designer in my own right, I haven't had the time to date."

Eleanor nods in understanding, knowing how busy being a designer can be.

"Oh," I comment, unwilling to let this go. "I was under the impression that you dated Damien _before _you became famous and all."

How I love watching her squirm.

"I think you're mistaken Blair," she repeats, avoiding eye contact with everyone at the table. "I've never had a boyfriend named Damien."

"Right," I say with a laugh and my parents are glancing between us suspiciously. "My mistake then. I must be on _drugs _or something."

My mention of the word drugs has her reeling. Bingo!

"I actually have a few things to finish up at the studio," she announces, getting ready to leave. "I think I'll take my brunch to go. Would that be alright with you Eleanor? Harold?"

They both nod and I can see the numerous question marks over their heads.

"What is going on dear?" my mother asks me the moment she's gone and I'm tempted to tell her.

Somehow I restrain myself from doing so though. Victory will be _that _much sweeter once she and everyone else in the world finds out that that dress design was mine.

"Nothing, mother," I say instead, digging into my food. "Just a small misunderstanding."

When she doesn't respond, I look up from my plate. She's waving at someone. Did Jenny come back? I whirl around to find Nate…and Bree walking towards us (Bree?).

"Nathaniel darling!" my mom shouts and I want to die at that moment. "Why don't you come and join us? Bring your little friend too."

Little friend? God. Could she be anymore embarrassing? Speaking of little friend though, are Nate and Bree dating now or something? I'm not sure how I feel about that, not that I'm doubting my relationship with Chuck now. I mean, she gives me my coffee in the mornings. I had no idea Nate and Bree even _knew _each other. He doesn't like coffee all that much really.

"Uh, Eleanor, Harold, wonderful to see you both," he greets them before nodding my direction. "We wouldn't want to intrude."

He's blowing her off nicely. Obviously he wants some alone time with Bree. Get a clue mother!

"Actually, I was talking to my parents about something private," I help him out and I can tell that he understands my intentions (as does Bree who's smiling politely at me). "So, maybe another time?"

"Oh, of course Blair," he responds and his acting is terrible. "Another time then."

He and Bree are about to turn away when my mother interrupts their departure, "Nonsense! Have a seat. Both of you."

They oblige (albeit uncertainly) and I'm praying that this is nothing but a terrible nightmare. I know what my mother is doing. She's going to tear Bree's self-esteem to shreds and then try to make Nate see that I'm the only one for him. She seemed to warm up to Chuck yesterday, but I know she still has her heart set on Nate being her future son-in-law.

"So, Bree, do you work at Bass Industries as well?" she pries, to which Bree answers as Nate and I share a uh-oh look, "Uh, no. I work at the Starbucks across the street actually."

"Yeah, but she's also doing her Master's degree in English at Colombia," I input and Nate smiles gratefully at me for my help. "She's looking to be a writer."

"That's right," Bree echoes before adding, "I actually just finished the rough draft of this novel I'm hoping to publish. My family is mostly in politics, but I'm…"

"Politics?" my mother interrupts, that being the only word that has interested her thus far. "What's your last name?"

"Buckley," she states simply, head held high. "Bree Buckley."

"Are your two families not mortal enemies or something?" she clarifies and Nate answers her this time around.

"Yeah, but we're going to make this work," he assures her, putting his arm around Bree. "I'm not my parents and neither is she. They can hate each other all they want."

"How Romeo and Juliet," she comments, not amused in the least bit.

I'm about to say something in their defense when I feel my phone vibrate in my purse.

"Sorry," I excuse myself, turning away for some privacy. "Hello?"

"Waldorf, why are you whispering?" Chuck whispers back, mocking me.

"Because this brunch has gone from awesome to awkward," I say, elaborating, "Awesome because I made Jenny squirm and awkward because Nate and Bree are here having brunch with us."

"Is he trying to make you jealous to get you back?" he assumes and I roll my eyes.

"No," I mutter, glancing back at the table for a brief moment where Bree and my mom are deep in conversation (crap!). "Not everyone has ulterior motives Bass."

"Uh huh," he murmurs before informing me, "Well, either way, I'm coming to pick you up right now Waldorf. I'm not comfortable with you having brunch with your ex-boyfriend."

"His new girlfriend is here too," I remind him, but evidently he doesn't care because he's already hung up on me.

* * *

"So, to clarify," Chuck speaks up and I just love it when he takes charge. "Damien, you're responsible for shutting down the security system. Penelope, you and Louis will be parked in front of the police station. When they move, you move, give us a heads up. Serena, should the police actually show up, distract them, buy us time. Blair and I will go into the building and get what we need…Waldorf, why are you wearing makeup?"

"Just because we're going to be committing a crime soon, doesn't mean I can't look good while doing it," I retort and he rolls his eyes in response.

"Suit yourself," he drawls as everyone prepares for our mission. "Alright, we have an hour max to pull this off, so let's go."

Ten minutes later, we're in front of her building. Damien opens the doors and we head out, him staying behind to set up his equipment. Serena stays in the van as well, prepared at any moment to distract the authorities should they actually arrive at the scene.

"You ready Waldorf?" he asks, confirming that I am absolutely certain I want to go through with this (again).

"Absolutely," I answer and he nods, taking my hand.

We hear a beep as we approach the door.

"Door's cleared you guys," Damien says and we enter, careful not to leave any fingerprints behind.

Gosh! This is all so exciting and Chuck looks so sexy right now, you know, pretending like he's James Bond or something.

As we enter the main lobby, we see the red recording lights of the security cameras go off. Seriously. Damien is worth very penny (so to speak of course, since he's doing this for free).

Chuck and I are dodging in and out of desks as we make our way to her office, but suddenly it occurs to me, just as Chuck is on the move again.

"Uh Chuck?" I speak up, using my normal voice. "There's no one here."

He pauses, looks around and then realizes that I'm right.

"How about a kiss first then?" he asks, smirking, walking towards me.

I push him away.

"No," I warn him. "This is serious business."

"I love it when you get all uptight," he teases me, pulling me close anyway.

I'm about to give him a quick kiss when suddenly, we hear a sound just outside the door. Oh shit! _Is that a flashlight?_

"There _is _someone in the building Chuck," I hiss and he's already dragging me behind the desk closest to us.

"Hush Waldorf," he says, peering out to find the security guard checking the premises.

"I never considered actually getting busted, you know! My mother is going to _kill _me," I murmur under my breath because I'm starting to get nervous. "Or at least when I got busted, I was hoping I would have the proof al-"

I don't finish because his lips are on mine, probably to shut me up, which was not wise of him really, since a tiny moan just escaped from my lips. _What?_ He's a really good kisser and the way he runs his fingers through my hair…

We hear the door close again and that's when (unfortunately) his lips part from mine.

"You talk way too much, you know that?" he questions and I hit his arm.

"So, you decided to take advantage of that Bass?" I retort, wiping away a lipstick smear on his face with my finger.

"Please," he counters, getting into a standing position again. "Like you didn't enjoy every minute of it. Come on. Jenny's office is right down there."

Moments later, he swings upon her office door and swears, "Fuck!"

"What?" I say, following after him.

"Hi Chuck, Blair," Jenny speaks up from her office chair, legs resting comfortably on her desk. "Looking for these?"

She has my designs in one hand and a lighter in the other. I glance at Chuck. He was right. _Fuck._


	15. Nate?

**A/N:** Short chapter, but I am trying to get back into the writing groove. Most of the characters are based off of their season one characters in this story, but Jenny? Not so much as you'll soon see. Some _spoilers_ for upcoming chapters to make up for the fact that the next update may not be soon: Serena's secret man works at the office with Blair. Guess who? Also, a masquerade ball will soon cause major sparks to fly between Chuck and Blair (yes, limo sex included). You're welcome. Anyway, review and I promise to update as soon as I have a spare moment from school.

**Nate?**

* * *

Seeing the shocked expression on my face just makes her evil smile grow wider. Now, I'm normally as composed as they come, but I was just one-upped by Jenny Humphrey! I am _always _one step ahead of her. How the hell did _she _get one step ahead of _me_?

"Oh, don't look so shocked Blair," she says, calling me back to reality.

She gets up from her seat now and Chuck takes a step forward, causing her to flick her lighter open.

"Keep your bitch back, will you Blair? We wouldn't want me to burn these lovely designs of yours, now would we?" she threatens me, her head tilted to the side, wicked smile still very much in place.

I steal a glance at Chuck then. His eyes are absolutely _livid _right now and I know he desperately wants to kill her for what she just said. I put my hand on his arm to hold him back though. As much as I hate to admit it, Jenny does have the upper hand at the moment. Those designs are all the proof I have in the world. I _need _them. Chuck seems to understand because he takes a deep breath and takes a step back.

"Wow, obedient too," she murmurs teasingly, but luckily, I am the only one who hears her.

There would be little bits of Jenny Humphrey all over the walls now if Chuck had heard her too.

And then, it comes to me.

"It was Damien, wasn't it?" I ask, chiding myself for having trusted him so easily.

God! I can't believe I bought his whole she-broke-my-heart story! I can be _such _an idiot sometimes.

"He didn't lie to you if that's what you're thinking," she clarifies, lowering her lighter for a moment to explain. "He did hate me…until last night that is. Boys are so weak Blair. You should know that right?"

She cocks her head towards Chuck for emphasis before continuing. He's glowering at her of course.

"He showed up at my doorstep drunk as hell telling me how much he hated me and everything. Oh, and he spilled your plans to destroy me too along the way. Of course, one 'I'm sorry' and 'I love you later', he was putty in my hands," she finished, a look of pride on her face.

Wow. This girl is _seriously _twisted.

"That's _sick _Jenny," I tell her, feeling sorry for Damien now. "He was really in love with you, you know."

"I was too, with him," she admits and I see a flash of something in her eyes, although I can't quite put my finger on what it is. "Except I love my career even more. You don't understand Blair. I'd do _anything _to stay on top in the fashion world."

I have to keep her talking. I can already see Chuck inching closer and closer to her from the side.

"So, you're willing to lose everything along the way then?" I ask, keeping my eyes trained on her.

If I so much as glance at Chuck, she'll know what's up.

"You know, one of these days, my mother's going to wise up and see you for who you really are," I continue, saying whatever's coming to my mind right now. "Then, you'll lose the only family you've ever really had."

"My family? Ha! _My family?_ My family, my _real _one, is _dead_," she spat, her eyes deadly (no pun intended).

It was then that she noticed Chuck by her side. He made a grab for the designs, but she was faster, lighter at the ready again.

"No!" I shout, panicking, and Chuck pauses at the sound of my voice.

They both do.

"Jenny, _give me my designs_," I seethe, staring her down.

I am done playing nice.

She smiles sweetly (_too _sweetly) at me and replies, "Ok, Blair, here."

She throws them all on the table, except for the one dress design that mattered to me most. I feel myself begin to panic again when she tosses her lighter onto the table as well. Oh good. Maybe she…_Fuck._

The rest of the scene plays out before me in slow motion as she starts ripping up my design into a million little pieces and somehow, I find the strength to lunge myself at her, ready for a fight. After all, the evidence was destroyed anyway, right? I might as well make her pay for it.

We're having a full on cat fight (Chuck being smart enough not to interfere) when I hear Serena through my earpiece.

"The cops are here you two! Turns out they don't have a thing for super hot blondes," she whispers. "You guys _have _to get out of there."

Leave it to Serena to squeeze a compliment about herself in there.

I glance at Chuck then and I know he's heard her warning too. He grabs me and we hurry towards the door, only to come face to face with the officers in question. _Shit._ Lady Luck evidently hates me.

* * *

"This blows," Serena announces, a sigh on her lips. "I cannot _believe _Jenny busted us like this."

"I can," Penelope muses, Louis by her side. "I mean, come on. She even busted _Damien_."

"Yeah, sorry about all this," he apologizes, looking at me especially.

"As you should be," Penelope chirps, but I shoot her a warning glare before she says anything else.

He was a victim here too after all.

"Well, no need to worry. I am sure my father will have us all out of here in no time," Louis comforts us, but we all look miserable still. "They would not dare to keep royalty here or his friends."

"Louis Grimaldi?" an officer calls out then, approaching our cell.

He smiles, standing up to meet him. _See?_

"Yes?" he echoes and the officer tells him, "You're father has posted your bail. You're free to go."

"And what of my friends?" Louis questions and the officer shakes his head 'no' just as his father appears behind him.

Wow. He looks _really _upset. Wait until my mother gets wind of this. She'll probably be more upset than he is.

"Louis, you have shamed our family," he informs his son, disappointment on his face. "A Grimaldi! In prison! Your mother almost had a heart attack when she heard!"

He remains silent, staring down at his shoes.

Seeing his son so dejected calms him down a bit and he assures him, "We've paid off all of the witnesses though, so this night never happened. Come along now."

"Wait," Louis speaks up, standing still. "You have to bail my friends out too."

"No," he says, eyeing each of us carefully, silently blaming us for "contaminating" his son, which well, we kind of did actually.

"At least bail Penelope out," Louis pleads with him, motioning for her to come to his side.

Penelope stands up to meet him, smoothing out the wrinkles in her shirt. I feel for my best friend. I really do. I mean, imagine meeting your soon to be father-in-law in a prison. I would be horrified. She's handling herself rather well actually.

"Hello," she says politely and Louis wraps his arm around her waist. "Pleasure."

She extends her hand to him, but he doesn't take it, turning away. _That asshole._

"Fine. I'll bail her out," his father finally gives in before adding, "But you are _still _marrying Poppy. Your mother will not approve of this girl and you know it."

Louis opens his mouth to defend Penelope, but his father shuts him up. Poor guy.

"Not _another _word from you tonight," he states sternly. "We can talk about all of this in the morning."

He mumbles something under his breath (something I can't hear, unfortunately) and motions for them both to follow him, the officer not far behind. Louis mouths a 'sorry' before leaving and Penelope just looks upset.

"Wait officer," Damien calls after him and the officer returns, looking more unhappy than ever about having to deal with us. "What about the rest of us?"

"Yeah, how long do you plan to keep us in here?" Serena adds, starting to get angry too. "We can afford to bail ourselves out, you know. We _asked _to bail ourselves out earlier, but you ignored us. _You have to let us out of here!_"

"Normally, yes," the officer replies, acknowledging her point. "But Miss Humphrey gave strict instructions. None of you should be let out unless someone other than yourselves comes to bail you all out."

"When I get out of here, I am _so _going to sue you out of everything you've got," Chuck mutters, getting heated as well. "And last time I checked, Jenny Humphrey did _not _run the NYPD."

"No, but she makes some pretty awesome stuff for my wife for free," he tells him, emphasizing, "My supervisor too. We kind of owe her one."

I am about to give him a piece of my mind when I hear my mother screaming from afar, "I will pay you when I see my daughter! You take me to my daughter right now or there will be hell to pay! _Do you hear me?_"

Wow. I am _actually _flattered my mother's cared enough to come down here and bail me out. _Wait._ How did she even know I was even here? I used our phone call (yes, that bitch only allowed all of us one phone call total) to call Nate.

"Yes ma'am," comes the shaky answer and soon after, another officer appears at our cell, my mother in tow.

"Mom, I…" I start, getting up to explain myself, but she puts up a hand to interrupt me.

"You and I will talk about your reckless behavior when we get home," she tells me, her stern demeanor appearing once again. "Jenny called and told me everything. The rest of you are coming with me too."

Oh great. This should be fun. Well, at least we all get to leave, right? I mean, they actually have a bucket in the corner for you to pee in. _A bucket!_ There has to be some kind of law against this.

As we walk out the front doors of the station moments later, lo and behold, we bump into Nate, who has finally arrived, money in hand. Took him long enough. Where did he go to get that money? Canada?

"Oh man," he says, smacking himself on the forehead when he notices us standing there. "Was I too late? Sorry Blair. I came as soon as I could."

"_You called Nate?_" Chuck and Serena ask in unison, one shocked and the other livid (yes, Chuck).

_Uh oh._

"I thought I told you to call my assistant," he seethed, Serena keeping quiet now and taking a step back from him.

I ignore him, mostly because he's making a big deal out of absolutely nothing again. I called Nate because I _knew _I could depend on him. Besides, his assistant has a huge problem with me and would probably have hung up on me had I called her. So there.

"Uh, well," Nate starts, backing away from us all now, heading back towards his car. "I, uh, have to go. Glad to see you're alright Blair, uh, Serena, uh, everyone. Bye."

He practically runs to his car (probably because of Chuck), making sure to turn back for a brief moment to wave goodbye to me. I mouth a 'thank you' to him before turning back towards my mother. I can deal with Chuck later. He's less scary.

"Get in the limo Blair," my mother commands before addressing my friends, "I believe the rest of you will find a way home. Chuck."

She acknowledges him and he nods in response. Satisfied, she heads towards the vehicle. I give Chuck a quick kiss before following after her.

"We'll talk in the morning, ok?" I assure him, but he doesn't respond, avoiding my gaze.

God. He can be such a child sometimes. Seriously. CEO of Bass Industries? How does he manage?

* * *

The entire limo ride over and she still hasn't said a single word to me. I am _so _screwed. Hopefully my father will be home for support. You know, to soften the blow.

_I should be so lucky._

"Mom, I can explain," I start, reaching out for her, but she just walks past me into the living room.

Guess I can't blame Chuck for acting like a child sometimes. My mother makes me feel like I'm five all over again whenever I'm in her presence.

"Get in here Blair," she calls out from the living room and when I walk in, she's waiting for me on the couch.

She pats the seat next to her and I do as I'm told. I feel like I'm going to the principal's office or something, not that I was _ever _in trouble in high school. I was a model student (on the outside at least). No one ever knew of my shenanigans, except my victims of course (and my minions).

"Blair, I want you to tell me what happened," she says, staring me right in the eyes and I know I can't lie my way out of this one (not that I really want to anyway).

"What did Jenny tell you?" I ask in return, but she shakes her head, letting me know, "It doesn't matter what she told me Blair. I'm asking for _your _side of the story."

I look down at my hands for a moment, wringing them once, twice, before looking back up at her.

"Well, I couldn't find a job this one time," I start, swallowing hard.

Wow. This is a hell of a lot harder than I thought.

_You can do this_, I hear Penelope, Serena, and Chuck encouraging me.

"So, I applied to work for Jenny," I continue, more confident now. "She asked me to sketch out a few designs for her, so I did. Turns out they weren't any good or so I thought at the time."

"Your designs are always good," my mother tells me instead and I blanch for a moment. "And you should have come to your father and me for help."

What. The. Fuck? Is this for real? Oh God. Is my mother bipolar?

"I don't think I heard you correctly mother," I confirm, getting up from my seat now, starting to pace back and forth nervously. "You're _always _telling me how much more natural talent Jenny has than I do! You've _always _said that my designs are terrible!"

"Stop pacing dear and sit down," she demands and I want to defy her, but I don't.

For once in a long time, my mother and I have actually said more than a few sentences to each other, so I'm not going to ruin it.

"I say those things to push you to work harder," she finally explains, pausing for a moment before continuing. "The more I put you down, the harder you'll try to please me. The harder you'll work to make something of yourself."

_Wow._ No wonder my mother and Jenny get along so well. They're both sick and twisted. I know about the whole reverse psychology thing, but this just takes it to a whole other level. Forget not ruining this mother-daughter talk.

"_Are you serious?_" I shout and I'm actually _really _upset right now. "I've felt like _shit _all my life because you _love _me?"

"You watch your language," she chides me before defending herself, "I thought it was the right thing to do."

"Yeah, well you thought wrong," I spit, getting ready to leave.

"Blair Cornelia Waldorf! Don't you walk away from me!" she shouts after me, but I ignore her.

"Goodbye mother," I hiss, and minutes later I'm heading home.

I cry myself to sleep that night.

* * *

The next morning, I feel absolutely terrible.

I spent most of the night in jail.

Jenny owned me. Like _owned _me.

I am _never _speaking to my mother again (valid from this morning onwards).

And I'm pretty sure my boyfriend is still upset with me over the whole calling-Nate-for-help thing.

In conclusion, life sucks or at least mine does.

"Blair, are you up?" I hear a muffled voice ask, knocking on the door.

Uh. Last time I checked, neither Serena nor Penelope were men. _What the hell?_

I quickly grab my side table lamp and head towards the door. I swing the door open, prepared to hit the intruder smack on the head when I realize it's Chuck.

_Chuck?_

"Look Waldorf, I know I overreacted last night, but you don't have to kill me, do you?" he asks, eyes on the raised lamp in my hands.

"What are you doing here?" I hiss, setting the lamp back down on the table before heading for the bathroom.

I look like crap right now. My eyes are all puffy from crying last night.

"Serena let me in before she left," he answers, pulling me back before I even make it to the bathroom door.

His face falls when he _really _takes a good look at me for the first time.

"You've been crying," he notes, reaching up to touch my cheek. "Was it because of me?"

I have to snort at his assumption no matter how unladylike it is.

"Yeah, right," I say, rolling my eyes. "Please Bass. You're not _that _important to me yet."

"Good to know," he answers with a smirk, seemingly relieved by my answer. "So, you want to tell me who you shed tears over?"

I half want to say 'Nate' just to piss him off, but ultimately decide to give him a break. Either way, I am _not _about to have this conversation with him, not yet anyway.

"I'd rather not talk about it," I breathe and he seems to understand.

"Alright then," he says, getting up to leave. "My limo and I will be downstairs to take you to work then."

Oh work. Right. One more why-my-life-sucks reason to add to the list. It's Monday.

"Fine," I say, heading towards the bathroom again and this time, he doesn't stop me. "I have to shower though, so you'll have to wait for a bit."

"You need help with that?" he hopes, poking his head into my room again.

"Get out, Chuck," I warn him, although I have a smile on my lips, and he obliges, laughing his way all the down the hallway. "Your loss Waldorf."

_Sure. Whatever Bass._


	16. Tease

**A/N:** Hurray! An update! To answer a few of your questions: Yes, Blair will eventually take down Jenny. No, I have not forgotten about those phone calls Chuck keeps getting and neither will Blair. No, I am not starting up a Chuck/Blair/Nate triangle again. That would be unnecessary drama and I like Nate/Blair as really good friends. Hope you like this chapter and please take a moment to review!

**Tease**

* * *

_**Don't worry about the wicked witch, alright? I'm working on it. - C**_

I sigh upon reading his latest text message. Easier said than done Bass, I think, glancing at the mountain of files Carter put on my desk earlier this morning.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Oh good, a distraction!

"Come in," I say without looking up, typing away diligently on my computer.

Well, I'm really just answering emails, but I just got in! Nobody starts to work _right _when they arrive at the office, you know.

"Blair," a voice greets me and I groan.

Vanessa? _Really_, God? Thanks a lot. No, really. Thanks. She's _just _the person I wanted to deal with this morning after my mother and Jenny.

"Look, I'm not looking to start anything," she informs me instantly upon hearing my groan. "I just have a proposition that will make work a little easier for the two of us."

Wow. I guess my I'll-send-your-sex-tape-to-your-mom threat really worked on her.

"Shoot," I tell her, genuinely interested in her proposition now.

Honestly, I'd do _anything _to lessen my work load.

"Uh, well," Vanessa starts, unmoving. "I noticed that Carter gave us the same stack of files. Do you want to split them in half? He'll never know. At the meeting, we'll just be responsible for the ones we read. What do you say Blair?"

I raise an eyebrow at her, skepticism laced in my features. I mean, _come on_! When something seems like it's too good to be true, it usually is.

"Fine," I finally relent, turning my attention back towards my emails. "This better not be another one of your poorly thought out ways to undermine me because…"

"Yeah, yeah," she responds before walking out of my office just as quick as she came. "I know. Sex tape, my mother…"

I smile triumphantly at her reply. It feels really good to have finally tamed the troll.

_Knock. Knock. Knock._

Oh, now what? I'm beginning to think that she's more annoying when we're at peace with each other.

"_I have a surprise for you!_" a different (more welcome) voice exclaims, shopping bags in hand.

I wait until she's caught her breath before saying anything.

"Serena, you _do _know I'm working, right?" I ask her, pursing my lips in disapproval at her disruptive visit.

She rolls her eyes, flipping her blonde hair over her shoulders with a 'whatever'.

"Oh, I'm sorry," she drawls, plopping down on the sofa in the corner and carelessly throwing her bags on the floor. "Am I interrupting your morning email replies?"

Oh right. I forgot. She's my best friend. She _knows _all of my antics at the office. _Damn._

I throw my hands up in defeat.

"Alright S," I indulge her, getting up from my desk to join her on the couch. "What's the big surprise? This _better _be good."

She smiles so wide at me then, it's borderline creepy, you know, like that fat, purple cat from Alice In Wonderland.

"It _is_. You know how I was trying out for that lead role in that show on that network?" she asks me eagerly. "Well, I got the job! They said my audition was _perfection _B! I'm _so _excited! My big break has finally arrived!"

"S! I'm so happy for you!" I squeal, clasping my hands together before pulling her into a hug.

Wow. This is _really _good news. It's like the three of us are all finally where we belong. Penelope's _literally _found her prince, I've got a fantastic job _and _Chuck, and now Serena's going to be the lead in a hit TV show! Plus, she's got that mystery guy, whoever he is.

"Thanks," she says, calming down a bit now. "We start shooting in a few days. Do you want to be an extra on the show or something? I could _totally _hook that up for you and Penelope."

I try not to look mortified at her offer.

"Uh, the camera adds like ten pounds, doesn't it?" I confirm before telling her, "So, no thanks. You can see if Penelope's interested though. Speaking of which, where the hell is she? Did she even come home last night?"

"Nope," Serena informs me, shaking her head. "Didn't she leave you a message on your cell phone? She left me one."

I take out my cell phone then and lo and behold, 11 missed calls. Yeah, I totally saw those this morning. I've been meaning to get to them. _Wow. _She must have been persistent about reaching me.

23. Yeah, I'm forgetful like that sometimes.

"You have 11 messages," the computerized voice lets me know, Serena promptly grabbing the phone from my hands to put it on speaker.

"First message. Hey B, you're not going to believe this, but Louis got into a huge fight with his dad last night over me. His dad has accepted us now, but we're heading over to Monaco to get his mother's approval. Her opinion of me matters the most, you know? God. I'm _so _nervous. Anyway, I just wanted to let you know that's where I am. I'll miss you and call me when you get this! I _need _your help. You know I'm terrible at dealing with parents. Love you. End of first message. Press 1 to delete this message. Press 2 to save this message."

Note to self: Call P later and help her out.

I quickly press 1 and await for the second message. I doubt that Penelope called me the other ten times given her first one.

"Second message. Blair, we need to talk about what happened last night. Our conversation is _not _over. Call me back when you get this. Press 1 to…"

I press delete before the voice even finishes telling me my options. I whiz through the next few messages easily because they're _all _from my mother, each one more pleading than the next. _Ugh. _Why can't she just leave me alone?

"Uh, B," Serena starts and I suddenly I remember that she's been here the entire time. "Did something happen with Eleanor last night? Is that why you were crying? I thought you were upset with Chuck or something, which is why I let him into our apartment this morning to apologize to you."

"No, it had to do with my mom," I confess before making sure she knows, "But I _really _don't want to talk about it right now, so would you mind just dropping it, for now?"

Serena nods her head vigorously at my request, resting her hand on mine supportively.

"Of course, whenever you're ready, I'll be here," she promises, her eyes filled with concern. "But just to make sure, Blair, last night, you didn't…?"

I look at her, confused, wondering what the hell she's going on about. Then, it comes to me.

"Oh, _God _no!" I shout, appalled that she would even think it. "I'm stronger than that now. You _know _that. No, no, not since high school."

She breaths a sigh of relief, hand to her chest.

"Ok, good," she comments, smiling again. "Did you talk to Chuck about this yet though? Because I'll be _insulted _if he's the first person you're going to now when you've got problems. He's your boyfriend, but Penelope and I are you _girl_friends."

"Yeah, yeah," I say, waving off her concern. "And no, I haven't told him a thing."

I head back to my desk now and she follows me, coming around to see what I'm doing. I try to close the email I left open as quickly as I possibly can, but she catches my hand before I do.

24. My reflexes suck in the morning.

"_Oh my gosh!_ You and Nate are still _emailing _each other?" she freaks out just like I knew she would. "You are _so _bad B!"

I ignore her for a moment and buzz for Eva before I forget. She's my new assistant.

"Yes, Blair?" she queries through the phone and I tell her, "Please set up a lunch date with my mother for tomorrow and please also let her know that this will be the _last _time I'll ever be talking to her, will you?"

"Of course," she assures me, inputting, "You know, Blair. You might not want to be so harsh with your mother. She probably…"

"Eva," I interrupt her, not needing her nonsense right now (or ever). "I don't meddle in your personal affairs do I?"

"Well," she starts, but I interrupt her again. "Rhetorical question sweetie. Now, do your job and set up that lunch date."

"I'm sorry, Blair," she apologizes. "I was just trying to…"

"_Now _Eva!" I finish, turning off the intercom, effectively cutting her off.

"Wow, little harsh there B," Serena comments, skimming over the email in its entirety now.

"I caught Chuck looking at her this morning," I explain and Serena gasps in mock horror, her eyes wide.

"_No! He didn't!_ He used his eyes to _look _at things? _How dare he!_" she exclaims, before falling into a fit of giggles at the ridiculousness of it all.

"It wasn't so much him as it was her," I enlighten her, justifying my actions. "She was _totally _flirting with him. He says 'good morning' and she's all 'good morning, Mr. Bass". She was practically _purring _his name! I mean, who does she think she is? I looked up her background you know. She used to be a prostitute."

"Uh, so?" Serena retorts, opening up another one of my personal emails for her viewing pleasure. "Penelope's a prostitute, well, ex-prostitute now. What's your point?"

I glare at her for being so unsupportive.

"Penelope's different," I say stupidly and Serena merely grins at me in response.

"Uh huh," she muses, directing my attention back to my emails. "So, why exactly are you and Nate still chatting with each other?"

Before I can answer her, however, she adds, "Oh my gosh. Nate uses _chat speak_? That is hilarious!"

"Just because we broke up doesn't mean we can't still be friends," I remind her, grabbing the mouse from her again. "He's been asking me for advice on Bree. It's like ever since we broke up, he's so unsure of how to court a girl anymore. He keeps thinking he's doing everything wrong. I think he's forgotten that he just wasn't doing it right for me."

"So, you're teaching him chat speak?" Serena wondered, trying to connect the dots. "How will that get him the girl?"

"Well, technically, he's already _got _the girl," I fill her in. "He's just worried about not being able to _keep _the girl and he's been asking me what certain chat speak terms mean because she uses them in her text messages."

"Couldn't he just Google those or something FFS?" Serena wonders, smiling proudly for having squeezed 'FFS' in there.

"That's what I asked him," I inform her, exasperated. "He claims I'm more trustworthy than the internet or something like that though."

"Well, just don't let Chuck see these," she warns me, her face getting serious now. "He'll _flip _regardless of their content."

"Now, _that _I'd like to see," I answer, smirking at the image of Chuck going insane over this.

He looks a billion times hotter when he's jealous, which is like, _smoking _hot. Half the time, I imagine what nasty hate sex with him would be like, but we're not really at that stage in our relationship yet, so…

"Like to see what ladies?" Chuck queries, strolling into my office unannounced (as usual), a smirk on his face that matches my own. "Serena, do you work here now?"

She grins sheepishly at him before grabbing her things and making her exit.

"I'll see you tonight B," she informs me, the door closing behind her.

"Bass, what can I do for you? I'm really busy here," I let him know, having closed my windows already, one of the files Carter gave me in my hand.

He chuckles.

"_Sure _Waldorf," he answers, walking over to my side of the desk until we're mere inches apart. "Done replying all of your personal emails?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," I huff, holding his gaze.

"You know, you're _really _hot when you're stubborn," he says, taking the file from my hands and pulling me up for a heated kiss.

I find myself melting into his kiss for a moment before pulling myself away, images of someone catching us running through my mind. I know. I know. It's not like we're having sex on my office desk or something (although we totally should someday), but still. I like to keep a distinct line between my personal life and business. Plus, I don't want my colleagues spreading rumors about me behind my back, you know?

"Chuck, we're at the office," I remind him and he lets go of me reluctantly, rolling his eyes.

"I guess future office sex is out of the question then," he says, genuinely disappointed.

"Who knows? That may change Bass if you play your cards right," I tease him and I see a flash of something in his eyes (desire?). "Seriously though, what do you want?"

"Well, I know how much you love masquerades, so I was going to take you to the company ball as my date, but since you're so busy and everything, maybe I'll just go ask Eva," he contemplates, starting to leave. "She seems like a nice girl, doesn't she?"

_Oh no he didn't!_

"You _wouldn't_," I spit, venom on my lips, and he laughs. "Why wouldn't I?"

We continue to glare at each other and then I decide to play along with him.

"You know what?" I whisper, walking over to him, my lips close to his ear. "You go right ahead and ask Eva. The moment you mentioned 'masquerades', I was already planning a little surprise for you for the evening, but I'm sure it would have bored you anyway."

I slide my hand down his chest, stopping just when I'm about to hit dangerous territory.

"Eva seems like so much more fun," I finish before heading back to my desk and I hear him let out the breath he's been holding.

He remains silent, but I know it's probably only because he's thinking about all the possibilities of what I have in store for him. Boys. They're all the same, some dangerously sexier than others of course.

"Bass?" I call him back to reality and he snaps to.

"Yeah?" he breathes, his attention once again on me.

I let out a smirk, silently thrilled that I've got such a powerful hold on him.

"Get out of my office," I command, waving him off. "Some of us have work to do."

"Yeah, and good-looking guys to torture," he mutters under his breath as he walks away. "I'll pick you up at eight, Wednesday."

"Eight thirty," I toy with him just as I had on that day.

He turns around, clearly amused by my response.

"Great," he tells me. "But the event starts at eight fifteen."

And with that he's gone and I, of course, can't stop smiling. Screw the whole waiting thing. Serena and I are going lingerie shopping.

* * *

Ok, so turns out, Serena has no interest whatsoever in picking out something sexy for me to wear for Wednesday night. Some best friend she is.

I slip out of my heels and throw my purchase on a nearby chair. Believe me. I _will _have my revenge.

That's when I notice suddenly two gold cards on the floor near the door. An official invitation to the ball. _Wait._ Why is there one for Serena? I probably shouldn't open this, right? I bet it's from that mystery guy she's been seeing, which means that he's from the office. _From the office?_ Oh dear God. Please don't be Carter. Please don't be Carter. Please don't be…_DAN!_

I'm staring in horror at his name on the card.

_**Dan Humphrey cordially invites Serena van der Woodsen to the 16th**__** Bass Industries Ball.**_

No! No! _NO!_ Not Humphrey! Serena is _way _too good for him! His best friend looks like a rat for God's sake!

"Oh good Blair," Serena says then, strolling out of her room, script in hand. "You're home. I'm sorry I had to miss that shopping trip, but I really had to study my lines for…"

She trails off when she notices the look of horror on my face.

"Is something wrong B?" she asks, snatching the card out of my hands.

Then, her face falls too.

"Ok, before you start judging," she warns me and I have to scoff.

"I don't _want _to Serena, but _Dan Humphrey_?" I clarify, a look of disbelief still on my face. "Were you not listening to me when I complained about him all those times?"

She shrugs.

"Yeah, but I actually bumped into him once when I was visiting you and we talked," she confesses, pouring herself a drink. "He's not _that _bad you know. He's actually kind of humble around me and he's not as annoying as you say he is."

I close my eyes and take a deep breath. As her best friend I know I'm supposed to support her in every way that I can, but _Dan Humphrey_? I wouldn't touch him with a ten foot pole!

"Come on B!" she pleads with me. "Say something!"

I sigh.

"I'm happy if you're happy," I tell her finally and she sees (of course) right through my act.

"Just promise me you'll be nice at the ball?" she asks of me. "I _really _like him."

_Wow._ I've actually never seen Serena so serious about a guy before. Maybe Dan Humphrey's not as bad as I think he is. _Oh God._ I can't believe I just said that. The world is going to end soon. I just know it.

25. I can get a little overdramatic sometimes, a lot of the time, ok, all the time. You know what I mean.

"Anything for you," I promise her and she returns my smile, wrapping me into a huge hug.

"Thanks B," she says, changing the subject (smart girl). "So, what are your grand plans for Chuck tomorrow night?"

I shrug, pouring a drink for myself.

"I'm trying not to think about it too much. I want it to be somewhat spontaneous, you know? I mean, with Nate, I would have planned everything down to the last detail probably, but I want it to be different with Chuck. It _is _different with Chuck," I tell her.

Serena rolls her eyes and assures me, "I don't even want to know. Just not in our apartment B because I'll be coming home to it after the ball."

"Uh, no way!" I shout, getting disgusted again. "You and Humphrey are not going to get freaky anywhere _near _here."

She laughs, but promises me, "I'm coming home alone. Dan and I just started our relationship. We're not quite there yet."

"Wow. For once, my relationship's faster moving than yours," I realize, reminding her. "I mean, you usually sleep with the guy in what? Give or take 2 or 3 weeks?"

"That is so not true!" she insists, slapping me playfully on the shoulder before taking another quick sip of her drink.

I'm about to tell her it totally is, but I'm interrupted by the doorbell.

"Get the door, will you?" I ask Serena, but she's already up.

"Penelope?" I hear her say seconds later when she swings open the door.

One look at her face and I know she's been crying. We pull her into a hug.

"Sweetie, what happened?" we wonder and she tells us before breaking into soft sobs, "His mother _hates _me! She made him choose between his title and me and he didn't say anything, so I left. _God. _This is all your fault!"

"What? Why?" I ask her and Serena looks confused too.

"You should have stopped me from breaking that 'Never fall in love' rule!" she shouts angrily, but then begins to sob again.

"Oh, I'm really sorry," I apologize, working to soothe her, and Serena follows suit. "Come on. There's ice cream in the fridge and chick flicks to watch. Your pick."

"Oh! Let's watch the Prince & Me," Serena suggests excitedly as she gets the tubs out of the fridge.

Her words just make Penelope cry harder and I hurl a pillow in her direction, hitting her square in the face.

"What the…?" Serena reacts and I shoot her a look. "What? Was it something I said?"

_No shit, Sherlock._


	17. Mask

**A/N:** I have no issue writing **M**-rated scenes as most of you should know, but I was specifically asked to please keep this story **T**-rated and so I will. Also, there should only be a few more chapters left, so expect a lot of great stuff ahead.

**Mask**

* * *

The moment the cab pulls away from the curb, I take a deep breath. I am nervous as hell. I see my mother seated at one of the tables and make my way over to her. We could have had this conversation in private I suppose, but I know that public places are good. My mother cares enough about her reputation to keep her cool and I care enough not to be embarrassed, so I do the same.

"Blair, thank you for meeting me," she says and her genuine smile completely throws me off for a split second.

Wow. That sounded like she _actually _meant it. Alright, focus Blair. You're here to cut off ties with her. This woman is nothing but poison and you know it.

"Sure," I answer her noncommittally, taking the seat across from her. "What did you want to talk about? As far as I'm concerned, our conversation from the other night was done, _complete_."

She ignores me of course, something she's mastered well over the years.

"Would you like to order something to eat first?" she asks me and I shake my head adamantly. "I know this is your lunch break."

_Ugh._ Is she _seriously _trying to play the I-care-about-you card after all this? Well, I'm not falling for it.

"This should be a short conversation mother, so no," I inform her and I see her purse her lips instantly in dissatisfaction over my stubborn attitude.

I know I'm being a total bitch right now, but come _on_! After everything she's put me through, she _totally_ deserves this. I suffered from bulimia during my high school years because of her!

Finally, I hear her sigh, breaking the silence.

"Please, how about no walls for the next ten minutes Blair?" she suggests and I notice that her eyes are pleading (for once). "I promise you. After these ten minutes, should you really never want to see me again, I will stay out of your life forever."

Immediately, she's got my attention. Alright, I'll bite. What's another ten minutes with her, right?

"Ten minutes," I agree and she breathes a sigh of relief, cutting to the chase, "First of all, I want you to know how sorry I am for the way I've been treating you for well, a long while. I see now that my methods might have been…unconventional and I'm sorry for that."

I try not to, but I have to scoff, rolling my eyes for the extra emphasis.

"_Unconventional?_ Is that what they call constant verbal abuse now?" I shoot back and a stern look passes over her face.

"You promised me, no walls," she reminds me and I have to bite my tongue then.

I am, if nothing else, a woman of my word.

"Well, sorry doesn't cut it mother," I let her know, returning her stare. "You put me through _hell_. Everyone knows you treat Jenny more like a daughter than you do me. It's so _blatantly _obvious."

Saying all of this out loud right now is conjuring up so many bad memories, especially the ones that entail me sitting on the bathroom floor, _torturing _myself because my mother has just taken another stab at my self esteem. I will myself not to cry.

_This will all be over soon._

"Blair, I'm only human," she insists, flagging the waiter down for a drink and I realize then that I desperately need one too. "I made a terrible mistake, a lot of mistakes, but I would like a second chance to be a mother to you, the mother I should have _always _been to you. I had a nice long chat with your father last night and he made me realize how wrong I have been."

"Pot calling the kettle black much? You were _always _worse than him, but he's put me down too," I remind her and she nods in acknowledgement.

"And your father is sorry too," she assures me, putting a hand over mine.

I instantly retract my hand from her touch, but for a moment, I feel an unusual tug on my heart. This all started when Jenny first moved in with us, which was a long time ago. Can I really just forgive her and start fresh with us after all the pain she's put me through?

My cell phone rings then, cutting through my thoughts. _Chuck._

Good. I need some time to think anyway.

"I have to take this," I apologize, excusing myself from the table after assuring my mother that this would _not _cut into our ten-minute-no-walls talk time.

I make sure I'm out of earshot before answering my phone.

"This better be good Bass," I say, flipping open the device, silently wondering where he had gotten this talent of calling me whenever most inconvenient from.

"Uh, maybe?" he echoes uncertainly. "I've moved the ball up to tonight. Everyone at the office got a memo this morning, but I hear you took the morning off, so consider this a personal memo Waldorf."

Wait. He moved the ball to _tonight_? That is absolutely unacceptable! Serena, Penelope, and I have appointments tomorrow at a spa. You know, to freshen up and give our skin that healthy glow before the ball. _Ugh._

"There better be a _really _good reason for this date change Chuck because I had prepping plans for tomorrow, which you've now messed with," I warn him, causing him to chuckle.

"You girls and your prepping plans," he responds in amusement. "I mean, honestly, you put on a dress and a mask, maybe do your nails or whatever. How long could that possibly take?"

"This coming from the man who takes _half _an hour every morning to pick out the perfect bowtie?" I remind him mockingly and he remains silent for a moment.

"Point taken, but you have plenty of time to get ready still, alright?" he assures me. "Besides, I probably won't be paying any attention to what you're wearing at the ball. I'll be thinking about what lingerie you're wearing _underneath _your outfit for tonight."

"You are unbearable sometimes, you know that Bass?" I ask him and I can see him smirking on the other end of the line upon hearing my words.

"Yes, I am fully aware," he informs me, adding, "Just a part of my charm Blair or so I've been told. So, pick you up tonight?"

"I guess," I agree, making a mental note to try and reschedule our spa appointments for today instead. "But you are _still _not getting any."

"We'll see about that," he muses, suddenly remembering, "Oh and play nice with your mother, alright?"

Uh, how did he know I was even meeting up with my mother for lunch? I never told him a thing.

_Serena._

"Who…?" I start questioning him, but he stops me, answering, "Eva told me when I asked her where you were this morning. Blair, I know you used to…Well, I know you suffered a lot because of her, but I also know the feeling of not having a mother at all. Just promise me you'll think about giving her another chance, yeah? No one's perfect. I mean, just look into my past sometime."

I sigh, secretly hating him for knowing _exactly _what to say, exactly what to do.

"I'll think about it," I promise him, ready to head back into the restaurant now. "Thanks Chuck."

"Anytime," he responds. "See you tonight."

I hang up the phone then, taking a moment to really observe my mother before heading back over to our table. I guess Chuck does have a point. Maybe I should give her a second chance. She _does _look genuinely sorry.

"Mother," I start slowly, taking my seat again and choosing my words carefully. "I have decided to accept your apology, but on _one _condition."

"Anything," she assures me with a curt nod, once she recovers from her initial shock at my response.

I take a deep breath.

"_No_ smothering me. We rebuild this relationship slowly," I suggest, my tone leaving absolutely no room for negotiation.

"Fair enough," she replies, giving me a small smile. "I'm not much of the smothering type anyway."

I nod, taking a sip of my drink, trying to dispel the awkwardness that has settled between us.

"Well, you must need to get back to work now," she continues when I remain non-responsive (mostly because I have no idea where to start). "So, you are officially dismissed from this torturous lunch with your mother."

I note then that she actually looks kind of disappointed. Oh, what the hell.

I have no idea what comes over me next, but I say, "How about I order something to eat instead?"

* * *

"You told my _mother _about all of the Jenny stuff?" I confront him, the moment he arrives on my doorstep. "What could _possibly _have possessed you to do that Bass?"

I mean, there has to be some relationship code out there that forbids contact with parents unless absolutely necessary like at social functions or family dinners and even then, no details about the other's life may be shared without his or her consent. _Men._ I swear. You can't live with them, you can't live without them.

"Uh, I had good intentions?" he defends himself immediately, glancing behind me at Serena and Penelope, who quickly pretend to go and reapply their makeup. "You look great by the way."

I ignore his compliment. Now's not the time to be flattered.

"Like what?" I ask him and he scoffs, "Oh come on Blair. You and I both know you were probably never going to tell her now that Jenny has destroyed all the evidence. Besides, I saw telling her as a bonding opportunity between the two of you. She deserves to know how evil Jenny really is, doesn't she? Don't worry about Jenny by the way. My PI is onto something. We'll find those skeletons in her closet in no time."

"No need," I muse, leaning against the door frame. "Thanks to you, my mother and I had a little chat. I know exactly how I can prove that that dress design was mine and my mother is helping me."

He blanches for a moment before offering a reaction.

"Alright, now I'm completely confused," he tells me. "Am I in trouble here or are you _thanking _me?"

"A little bit of both," I say, motioning for Serena and Penelope to come along.

Dan was supposed to pick Serena up, but when she learned that Vanessa would also be coming along for the ride, she declined, telling him she would meet him there. She might be stupid enough to date Dan Humphrey, but no one is stupid enough to want to endure Vanessa for an entire limo ride. As for Penelope, well, we're not leaving her alone when she's still heartbroken over Louis. That (excuse my language) son of a bitch.

As we all climb into the limo, Chuck wonders, "So, what exactly _is_ this genius plan you and Eleanor have come up with? I'm a little insulted by the way. I thought _I _was your scheming partner."

I smirk, preparing to relish in this moment.

"You've been replaced Bass. You weren't pulling your weight," I tease him and he rolls his eyes.

"Funny Waldorf," he comments, laughing sarcastically. "Seriously though, spill, unless there isn't one?"

"Oh, our plan _definitely _exists," I inform him. "But as punishment for talking to my mother behind my back, you'll just have to find out on the same day that everyone else will."

"And what day would that be exactly?" Penelope wonders, probably more excited about the Jenny takedown than I am.

_Anything to get her mind off of that scumbag._

"At the 2010 Excelsior Awards later this week," I announce proudly and Penelope shares my smile in complete understanding.

"Is that not broadcasted nationally?" Serena clarifies and we all roll our eyes.

"Keep up Serena," Chuck tells her, pouring himself another drink. "Blair Waldorf does nothing less than very public humiliation."

"Exactly, and speaking of public humiliation," I repeat, turning my attention towards my best friend. "Ready for the world to see that you're dating Dan Humphrey?"

"Blair, you promised to play nice," Serena warns me and Penelope just laughs as our limo pulls up to the curb, causing the blonde to add, "You too P."

"Sure, sure," we mumble, stepping out of the vehicle together, Chuck walking slightly ahead of us to talk to the press.

Originally, he had wanted both of us to handle the press together, but I told him I'd rather not. I have trouble walking down the red carpet as it is and honestly, if some reporter asked me about my relationship with Chuck, I wouldn't even know where to start. That or I'd say something mortifying, landing the two of us on page 6 the next day. I don't even know _why _the press is here. This is a company ball for God's sake! We all dress up and drink and dance the night away. _Who gives a flying fish?_ I've personally never cared much for it. That's for sure.

"I cannot _believe _she's with Humphrey," Penelope whispers to me the moment we're inside the venue, watching them greet each other awkwardly from a few meters away. "Oh my gosh! You are never going to believe this. He brought a _corsage _for her. What does he think this is? A high school prom?"

"_No way!_" I hiss, trying to get a better look. "That _is_ a corsage. _Oh Jesus!_ She's actually letting him put it on. This is _so _embarrassing."

"_Oh my gosh! No way!_" Nate shouts mockingly, jumping into our conversation, Bree bursting into giggles beside him.

"Hilarious Nate," I comment, rolling my eyes. "Nice to see you again Bree. You look great."

"Thanks," she says. "I've never been to a masquerade before, so this should be fun."

"Try not to get your hopes up," Penelope advises her. "It's just a theme thing, nothing special."

"So anyway, what's this I hear about a corsage? Were the guys supposed to bring one? I didn't see anything about that in the memo this morning," Nate tells me and I point him in the direction of where Serena and Dan are standing then.

"Nope, he just _chose _to bring one," I inform him and he comments, "Well, he _is _a little socially awkward I suppose, but he's an alright guy. You know, minus the whole know-it-all thing."

We chat for a bit longer about nothing in particular until Bree whisks Nate away for a dance. They really do make a cute couple. I'm happy for them.

Out of the corner of our eye, Penelope and I notice Serena waving at us to join her. _Great._ I was hoping to avoid making contact with Humphrey during this party.

"Come on," Penelope says, dragging me over to where they're standing. "Just try to play nice…because I know I won't."

"Funny P," I drawl, following after her. "If I have to grin and bear it, you have to too. By the way, I thought _I_ was the one with the vendetta against Dan. What's _your _problem with him?"

"Uh, he's from Brooklyn?" she reminds me, adding, "Plus, that outfit is totally tacky."

I feel like she's channeling her hatred for Louis right now onto Dan, but hey! Why the hell not? This is going to be fun.

The moment we arrive, Dan stands frozen in place, swallowing hard. I have to smirk. I can smell that fear from a mile away. He may be a know-it-all, but he's genuinely smart too. Messing with me when I was a marketing assistant? Bad idea. Messing with me when I'm executive director? _Super _bad idea. Messing with me when I'm dating Chuck, the CEO of the company he works for? _Death sentence._ Humphrey's got more to him than annoyingness, you know.

"_Blair_," Serena stresses as if she can read my thoughts, giving me a "look". "You know Dan already. Dan, this is my other best friend Penelope."

"Pleasure," Penelope says, but doesn't take his outstretched hand.

"Right," Dan mutters, sticking his hand back in his pocket. "So, what do you do for a living Penelope? Are you an actress like Serena?"

Trying to make small talk. How cute.

_Oh dear Lord. Is that Vanessa trying to get Carter to dance over there in the corner? Gag me please._

I need to talk to Chuck about making the guest list more exclusive next year.

"Aspiring actress," Serena corrects him, giggling like a schoolgirl, her hand resting flirtatiously on his arm.

_Oh please._ Like Serena even needs to _try _with him. She could whistle and he'd come bounding over to her like an obedient little puppy dog. Then again, Serena tends to have that effect on most guys. It was one of the things I hated about her in high school. We had this sort of frenemies relationship back then.

"I'm out of work at the moment," Penelope enlightens him, clearly anticipating the hilarious reaction to come. "I used to work as a prostitute though."

As expected, he chokes on his drink in shock and I have to bite my lip from laughing out loud. Penelope is much more composed than I am of course, since she's usually used to this kind of reaction when she mentions her profession to unsuspecting people.

"Oh, uh, that's great," Dan stutters, trying to find the right words to say right now. "There are a lot of people out there who, um, uh, have a need for, uh, never mind…"

He trails off, clearly embarrassed. Serena is about to say something to make him feel more at ease again when her cell phone rings. She glances at the caller ID and excuses herself, sending us a warning glare before she leaves.

"So, Dan," I say, moving over towards his right, Penelope to his left. "You must feel pretty good about yourself after landing a girl like Serena. Tell us. How did you manage? Was it that know-it-all attitude of yours?"

"Look, I know you're trying to psych me out here Blair, but it won't work," he informs me, stepping away from the two of us. "I really like her and just in case you two are worried, I plan to treat her right."

"Oh, we're not worried," Penelope assures him, twirling the glass in her hand around. "Because if you hurt her…"

"…we'll send you back to the sewers from which you came." I finish for her, staring him down to let him know we're not kidding, not in the least bit.

He'll especially think twice about breaking Serena's heart once word gets around on what happened to Louis. Serena and I have plans to deal with him later.

"Don't you think that's a little judgmental? I'm from Brooklyn, you know," he defends himself. "Not exactly a sewer-like environment."

"Vanessa lives there," I remind him, while Penelope concludes, "So, it must be."

"Hey now," Dan starts to get irritated. "I know Vanessa and you have had your fights, but…"

"No, no," I interrupt him before he can start standing up for his best friend. "No response required there Humphrey."

I realize Penelope has stopped talking, so I turn to look at her questioningly. She nudges me to warn me that Serena is on her way back. _Damn._

"Sorry, that was my agent," she apologizes, joining us again and putting her phone away. "So, have we all tried to get along?"

"Oh definitely," Penelope assures her and I nod in response, Dan doing the same.

Well, technically, we're not lying. I mean, we did _try_.

She's eyeing me suspiciously and so I promise her, "We just had a little chat about Brooklyn, isn't that right Dan?"

"Uh yeah," he echoes in agreement, forcing a smile.

She should be thankful she got here as soon as she did. We'd only just started with him.

She's about to ask for details, but we're interrupted by Chuck, who knows I've just made Humphrey miserable by the look on his face.

"Man, the press are animals this year," he announces, wrapping his arm around my waist. "Honestly, nine out of ten reporters were interested in my relationship with Blair rather than my business."

"Well, I certainly don't blame them for being interested in me," I joke, to which Chuck responds with a smirk, "Well, neither do I. Can I steal you away now?"

"Please do," Dan muttered under his breath before realizing that his voice had been just a _smidge _too loud.

Before Serena can react, Chuck pulls me away quickly. He nods curtly at Dan before making his departure, who looks terrified that he might have just gotten his boss pissed off (and so he should be).

"I hope you fire him," I suggest and Chuck tells me, "I would, but business is business and he's a good employee."

"On the topic of business," I speak up, suddenly remembering something I had wanted to ask him a long time ago, Dan forgotten. "How come Bass Industries comes out with every kind of alcohol possible, but not scotch? I see you drinking scotch all the time."

"Ongoing project Waldorf," he assures me, changing the subject. "So, would you like to dance? I suppose I should really make an effort to _woo _you into sleeping with me."

I laugh, bring my lips close to his ear, and then suggest instead, "Or how about we skip all the niceties and go straight to having some fun Bass? Hmmm? This masquerade is going to be dull with Dan and Vanessa in the same room anyway. I'm losing heat as we speak."

"Well, we certainly can't have that, can we?" he murmurs back, heading for the exit and pulling me along.

Our lips find one another the moment we slide into the vehicle. I was totally going to wait until we got back to his place first, but his feverish kisses down my neck right now are _so _turning me on. I need him _now_. I guess round two will have to be at his place then.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Chuck groans against my skin in frustration before reaching into his pocket for his phone.

"You cannot _seriously _want to take a call right now," I purr, sitting up to kiss his neck, my hand under his shirt already.

He glances at the caller ID, but then ignores the call.

"Not a chance in hell," he assures me, tossing his phone carelessly behind him and positioning himself on top of me again.

_Well, we're heading there Bass._


	18. Panic

**A/N:** My exams finished on Tuesday, so I am officially back on track with this story. Thank you for waiting so patiently for an update. There should actually be only about two chapters left. Please review!

**Panic**

* * *

I wake up the next morning with a wide smile on my face. Last night had been _beyond _amazing. Chuck Bass certainly knows how to please a woman. I have seriously been missing out and the best part? Not all of last night had just been physical between us (surprising, I know), but we actually talked, about a lot of stuff actually. He was more tightlipped than I was about his past, but he _did_ tell me a lot more than I already knew, so I was satisfied. I think the only thing I didn't share about myself with him was about me having been bulimic in high school, but mostly because it was a very difficult part of my life, one that I don't necessarily want to remember either. Some things are simply better off being buried in the past.

I notice the shining light through the massive bedroom window then, effectively stopping my slowly-becoming-somber thoughts. I turn around, wanting to watch him sleep (not in a creepy way of course), but instead, my heart stops because he's not there. No, _seriously_, his side of the bed is empty. I reach my hand over to feel the sheets. Sure enough, they're cold, which means he must have left awhile ago. I sit up instantly on the big, bouncy bed, glancing around the room as if hoping he would magically be there. Where the hell is he?

"Chuck?" I call out, my voice echoing off the walls of the room. "Chuck?"

Hmmm. No answer. Odd. I reach for my phone to check the time. It's barely seven o'clock. He _has _to still be around here somewhere. I mean, he promised me breakfast in bed last night! I slip on a bathrobe quickly, not even bothering to get dressed. As I slip my feet into a pair of fuzzy slippers (matching of course), however, something attracts my attention, stopping me in my tracks. I see a blob of white in the corner of my eye. A sticky note, how…_quaint_. I peel the piece of paper gingerly off the side table, starting to read the contents of the note he had left me. _This better be good, Bass._

_**B,**_

_**I am terribly sorry. An emergency came up early this morning, so I had to leave. The timing sucks, I know. I would have told you in person and woken you up, but you looked so serene in your sleep…Please forgive me and I'll call you when I have the chance. In the meantime, I've left you a key to my place. You also have full use of my entire staff.**_

_**C**_

I hold the note in my hand for a few seconds longer, looking up and then looking back down again. Was this some kind of _joke_? I mean, an _emergency_? What kind of emergency? Someone better be dead for him to ditch me like this, although I guess I should be kind of touched that he didn't want to wake me, right? I fall back into bed, fully intending on sleeping in and worrying about all of this later, but my eyes are wide open again in mere seconds. Oh, who am I kidding? I'm Blair Waldorf. I need answers and I need them _now_. Doing the right thing and simply _waiting _for him to call would be torture.

One hot shower later and I am already ready to start grilling the staff. Surely _someone _must know something about this big emergency of his, right?

Perfect, the maid. What was her name again? Edith? Eloise? Elisa? _Elise!_

"Good morning Elise," I greet her, giving her my nicest smile. "Do you happen to know where Mr. Bass has run off to? He mentioned some sort of emergency in his little note?"

I take out the sticky note and hand it to her, but she hands it back to me without even so much as glancing at the written words.

"I'm sorry Miss Waldorf," she informs me, continuing down the stairs. "I have no idea. In fact, half the staff only found out that he had left about five minutes ago. You could try asking Arthur maybe. You know, the limo driver? I'm sure you met him last night."

She raises an eyebrow for emphasis and I already know what she's implying, that I'm just another one of those cheap whores Chuck had a little fun with for the night. _Ugh._ She is _so _fired when Chuck gets back.

"I did," I assure her, keeping my smile firmly in place as I walk past her. "I'll go see if he knows anything and Elise? I'd be a little bit more respectful to me. I could have you fired in a second. I'm not just another girl to Mr. Bass. Do you understand me?"

"Uh huh," she echoed, not an ounce of sincerity in her voice. "Of course Miss Waldorf."

As I walk away, I hear her mutter under her breath, 'That's what they all say.' and for a moment, I begin to doubt myself. _Nah._ I'm just still not fully awake yet. That's all…I _think_…

Ten minutes later, I get a hold of Arthur, not particularly because he's hard to find. I just got lost. I mean, this place is _huge_! Took me awhile to find the _freaking _front door! Alright, maybe I'm exaggerating a tad there, but...

"Arthur!" I shout when I see him and his eyes widen a little, probably because he knows I'm going to try and grill him for information. "Do you know where Chuck is? You have to have driven him somewhere this morning, right?"

"I'm sorry Miss Waldorf," he tells me sharply and I already know he's going to lie to me. "I have no idea. He actually took off in a cab this morning."

_A cab?_ When he has _how _many limos at his disposal? Do I _look _like I was born yesterday? I mean, honestly!

"You know Arthur," I inform him, narrowing my eyes. "It would be wise to tell me what you know. You have _no _idea what scorned women are capable of."

I see him swallowing hard, crinkling his forehead as he considers the pending consequences.

"Look, I drove him to the airport this morning at around three o'clock maybe," he reveals, his voice in a low whisper (like Chuck would be able to hear him from where he was or something). "He had a small suitcase with him, but that's honestly all I know. He never mentioned where he was flying to. He barely spoke to me, only yelled for me to get him to the airport as soon as possible."

I frown immediately upon hearing his words, my face falling at the news. To the _airport_? He boarded a _plane_? Where was Chuck going? Was the emergency he had been referring to in the sticky note a business emergency or…? No, no _or_ Blair, breathe.

"Well, uh, thanks," I say, still trying to figure out where Chuck might have flown off to and for what purpose. "Would you actually mind giving me a ride to work?"

"Not at all," he answered, leading me all the way to the vehicle. "Mr. Bass told us strictly when he had left that your orders were to be followed to a tee, no questions asked."

I slide in onto the leather seats when he opens the door for me, not in the least bit touched by his gesture. I mean, last night we were having sex here and now, he's disappeared to some mysterious place with no other explanation than 'It was an emergency'? I glance at my watch. Eight o'clock now. When is he planning to call me? _Hmmm._ Maybe I should call _him_.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Damn. Voicemail.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Three more tries later and I am _still _only getting his stupid voicemail. I have to keep telling myself not to jump to conclusions here. Otherwise, I might possibly go insane. Time to pay his secretary a visit. If his emergency was seriously something business related, she _must _know about it, right?

* * *

The moment I arrive at the office and throw my purse on my desk, I head up to his temporary office. I already checked with Eva. His secretary should be in today regardless. The moment I step off of the elevator, I rush out and of course (because God hates me), I collide with none other than my constant-stick-up-the-ass boss. _Great._ Just what I needed on top of this little scare this morning.

"What the hell? Blair?" he questions before fixing his tie, slightly flustered. "What the fuck are you doing here? Did you not get my memo? We have a very important meeting this morning, so get your ass down to the meeting room now!"

I shake my head. I saw Vanessa walk into the meeting room on my way here. I'm sure she's handling the meeting just fine without me. In fact, I'm sure she read through all the files and expected me to read my half only, thereby one-upping me at the meeting again. Of course, being the smart woman I am, I went ahead and studied all of the client files as well, but right now, I have other things on my mind. I can deal with Vanessa later. Right now, I need to make sure that Chuck is alright.

"_You're shaking you head at me?_ Staff meeting now Blair," he reiterates, starting to get peeved. "I honestly don't care who you're sleeping with at the moment. You still have to do your job."

"Look Carter," I tell him, trying to reason with him. "Chuck just disappeared without so much as a word alright? He left me a note and told me there was an emergency and just left. I just really need to know what kind of trouble he might be in. Vanessa can handle the meeting for a bit. Give me _five _minutes to question his secretary, _please_."

Carter rolls his eyes, getting into the elevator again. He hated dealing with women when they got…emotional.

"Women," he mutters under his breath as the metal doors begin to close.

"Men," I mutter under mine as I approach the secretary's desk, where she's currently reading the morning paper.

"Miss Waldorf," Ms. Monotone greets me flatly as I loom over her desk, not even bothering to look up and meet my gaze.

Yeah, she _definitely _looks thrilled to see me.

"Can I help you with something?" she wonders when I fail to say anything.

Ugh. Seriously? She _totally _knows what I'm here about. What a bitch.

"Where is he?" I simply question, not playing around with her. "_Tell _me."

She takes her sweet time flipping to the next page of her newspaper before addressing my question, still not looking up from her seat.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid I can't reveal anything to you Miss Waldorf," she stresses, putting down her newspaper now and walking over to the filing cabinets. "Strict instructions from Mr. Bass himself. His schedule is to be kept private at all times unless the information of his whereabouts is pertinent for business purposes or extremely special circumstances and no, I don't consider your current inquiry a 'special circumstance'."

Yeah, she does the annoying air quotes thing and all too.

"But you know where he is?" I emphasize, trying to get something, _anything _out of her.

She finally looks at me, quirking an eyebrow and I match her gaze until she finally sighs, evidently just wanting to get rid of me now.

"Look, I honestly have no idea where he is," she admits and by the looks of it, she genuinely doesn't. "All I can tell you is that he boarded a plane awhile ago. I don't even know his destination. He just called and told me to tell anyone and everyone who asked that he's on an emergency business trip. Whether that's true or not, you'll have to figure that out for yourself."

Figure that out for myself? Good idea, Ms. Monotone. Time to snoop around, but where to start? And immediately, I'm thinking of Chuck's home office. I'll bet I'll find the information I need somewhere in there.

"Are you alright Miss Waldorf?" she wonders after a long period of me just staring off into space, looking genuinely concerned. "You look a little, I don't know, pale."

I quickly compose myself and snap, "I'm fine."

Turning sharply on my heels, I'm more determined than ever now to find out the truth because I have this really bad feeling in the pit of my stomach that this all has to do with those ridiculously mysterious phone calls he's been getting from Denver.

"Wait," she speaks up from behind me, looking from side to side. "Miss Waldorf, you're not thinking that he might be cheating on you, right?"

I whirl around to face her again, narrowing my eyes.

"Why? Do you know something?" I wonder and I'm praying she's about to say something to _stop _my growing suspicions, not encourage them.

"I just wanted to tell you that I personally don't think he is," she explains and I feel slightly better already. "He seemed to be rushing off for something important, like he was in a _real _hurry. It didn't seem like he was hurrying off to meet his lover or something. To be honest, I don't think he's ever been more serious about a girl, especially since you're gripping his house key in your hand at the moment if I'm not mistaken."

I look down then and realize that I _am _gripping his key in my hand still. In fact, its pattern has now been undeniably imprinted into the palm of my right hand. _Super._

"Thanks," I simply say, turning to leave again. "Just let me know if you know anything, ok? He said he'd call, but it's been a couple of hours now and still, nothing."

"Will do," she echoes, but I'm already in the elevator.

I groan. _Where the hell are you Chuck?_

* * *

"I wish I had been there to see the look on Vanessa's face," Penelope admits as we trudge down the long hallway looking for his home office. "Carter must have been _furious _when she couldn't answer any of the clients' questions."

"I actually feel kind of bad," I confess to her, trying yet another door.

Another bedroom. Damn.

"I can't believe she actually ended up only reading her half of the files as we had planned earlier," I continue as Penelope swings open the second last door. "I mean, for once, she didn't have anything malicious planned against me."

"Whatever," Penelope notes, pointing to the last door and letting me do the honors. "She deserves this. Remember all those times she humiliated _you _at those board meetings?"

"True," I comment, reaching for the knob as Penelope adds, "I still can't believe Chuck ditched you the morning after by the way without anything remotely _close _to a good excuse. I mean, he didn't even try. An emergency, _really_? This house is huge though, so you should forgive him. It's more like a mega mansion. I swear B, if you can get him to put a ring on it, you're set for _life_."

"Yeah, that's why I'm with him P," I tell her sarcastically, jiggling the doorknob. "His money."

"Wanting to be with someone because you love him is overrated anyway," she hisses and then I remember the whole Louis thing.

But we have a bigger problem now because his home office is evidently locked. Go figure that it should be one of the _only _rooms locked around here. I should have known.

"Damn it," I mutter in frustration under my breath just as Serena comes running up the stairs.

"What's wrong?" she asks us when she sees my face and I wriggle the doorknob to answer her question.

"Locked," I answer her just in case she didn't get the message.

To my surprise, she smiles.

"Uh huh, but you see, Chuck's safe isn't in his home office anyway. It's behind one of the paintings downstairs. The butler was in a useless pile on the floor after I was finished flirting with him," she brags, flipping her blonde shiny hair over her shoulder. "_And _I found someone who'll be able to crack the code too."

The way she says someone already has me worried and when said someone finally arrives, I more want to hurl. I absolutely _cannot _believe that the person Serena recruited for this job was Dan _freaking _Humphrey.

"You know how to figure out the safe code?" I clarify, Penelope not looking anymore convinced than I was at the idea. "I mean, where the hell did you pick _this _skill up?"

"I dabble," he answers me with a shrug, getting to work, Serena smiling proudly from behind him.

Whatever. Honestly, if Humphrey can get it open, I promise to _actually _be nicer to him, you know, maybe twice a week or something.

About twenty minutes later (and five billion _tries _later), he does get it open and I feel like hugging him (ok, not really).

"There's just a bunch of files in here," Dan murmurs, disappointed, taking them out with a gloved hand, but then his facial expression changes. "Oh my _God_."

"What?" I echo, rushing over to his side immediately, effectively pushing Serena out of the way.

"They're files alright," Dan explains, handing one to me. "Full _disclosure _files that is. This one's on you. There's also one in here for…let's see…Nate, Penelope, Serena…Um, who the hell is David Fields?"

"_David Fields?_" I screech, grabbing the file from his hands and flipping through its contents. "I lost my virginity to this guy. This is _unbelievable_."

"God, this literally contains _every sordid detail of my freaking life_!" Penelope shouted, looking absolutely infuriated. "Who the _hell _are you dating B?"

"I don't know," I echo, slowly flipping through my own file.

My God. Penelope's right. These files literally contain _everything_. Why did he even bother to ask me anything about myself when he already knew it all?

"Alright, let's calm down for a moment," Serena suggests, again being the more positive one in our little group. "He's the CEO of Bass Industries. I guess he needs to be cautious about who he dates, not sleeps with, but _dates_. Clearly you're the common factor amongst all of these files. Look, there are ones for your mom and Jenny too."

"I realize that, but doesn't he trust me enough? What? Did he suspect I was some gold digging whore?"

"Maybe it's the people you _associate _with that he's more concerned with?" she suggests and Penelope turns to glare at her even though Serena hadn't meant it that way.

Yeah, that definitely didn't help and then I freeze because I get to the page about my bulimia in high school. Dear lord, he knew all along about _that _too? All along I've been legit trying to get to know him, while all this time he's known _everything _about me? I mean, I know I already spilled quite a bit about myself to him on the plane, but _this_? I don't even know what I'm feeling right now. I feel so…I don't even know.

We just continue standing there, flipping through each of our own files, Dan standing there awkwardly waiting for us to finish and keeping an eye out for the staff (probably wishing there was a file on him too to keep him occupied).

Then, my phone rings and everyone looks at me in anticipation. I show them the caller ID: Chuck, except now, I don't really feel like talking to him anymore.

"Chuck," I acknowledge him when I answer the call, my voice a little colder than I had intended for it to be. "I've been waiting for you to call since this morning."

"Yeah, I'm really sorry," he apologizes, his voice in a low whisper. "Things were a bit _hectic_. I only had a chance to call now."

"Where are you right now anyway?" I question, willing him not to lie to me. "I mean, must have been a pretty big emergency for you to leave me, right?"

"Yeah, I know, and uh, London…around there," he informs me, his words hurried. "Remember how I told you Bass Scotch is like an ongoing project? Well, we were planning to launch it this week and then something went wrong at the head office. They called me in and then I just…Look, I actually have to head back into the meeting room again. I kind of snuck out to make this call. I'll call you again when I can, yeah?"

"Sure," I echo, my voice hollow, beyond caring because I know he's lying to me. "Bye Chuck."

Ugh. He didn't even mention last night. _Asshole._

"No way he's in London," Dan notes, the moment I fill them in on our conversation. "It takes seven or eight hours to even _get _there. He's lying."

"Yes, I got that Humphrey," I say, rolling my eyes. "Thank you. The question is where is he _really _and why is he lying to me about it?"

Immediately, my mind flashes back to all the phone calls. Denver. I bet he's there.

"P, you still have Damien's number, right?" I ask her and she smirks when she catches on to what I want to do.

"Absolutely," she tells me, already going off to make the call, while Serena simply looks at me, eyes wide, Dan even more confused beside her.

"B, what are you planning to do?" she wonders and I enlighten her, "Damien owes me one and I know he'll be able to track down Chuck's location, so if he's really in Denver like I suspect he is…"

"Where those phone calls have supposedly been coming from?" Serena echoes, starting to catch on now.

"…then I'm going after him," I finish, confirming her suspicions. "He's gone out of his way to know everything about me. It's time I return the favor."


	19. Truth

**A/N:** One more chapter left after this one. Are you ready? Also, thank you for your kind reviews on the last chapter. It was nice to know that a lot of you have not forgotten this story.

**Truth**

* * *

As the cab pulls up to the curb, I begin to panic. I have gone absolutely _insane_. I was actually so desperate to find out once and for all what Chuck was hiding from me that I pushed my fear of flying aside and boarded a plane to Denver. _Trust me._ The air hostess who had to keep me entertained during the entire flight was none too pleased.

"Lady, are you going to get out or what?" the taxi driver wonders suddenly, snapping me out of my thoughts.

I look out the window to observe my surroundings. Yup, I can see the sign, the Monarch Hotel. Here I go I guess.

"Uh, yeah," I murmur, handing him some bills before getting out of the vehicle. "Thanks a lot."

He mutters an almost inaudible 'you're welcome' back as I get out of the vehicle. I'm starting to think this might be a bad idea. My hesitation only grows as I walk through the hotel lobby. I mean, am I _really _ready for this? Suspecting him of cheating is one thing (the girls and I decided it was the most plausible explanation), but actually _seeing _him with another woman with my owns eyes would be something else entirely.

"Can I help you?" the woman at the desk asks me as I approach her, suspicion in her eyes.

Well, no turning back now. After all, I came all this way to find out the truth. It would be nice to know that that horrific plane ride had been for something.

"Uh, yes actually," I say, my voice eons more confident now. "Could you tell me what room Mr. Chuck Bass is in?"

"Mr. Chuck Bass?" she echoes, unmoving, still eyeing me warily.

Well, isn't she going to check the hotel database or something?

"I'm an employee of his at Bass Industries," I explain, hoping this will get her moving. "Something's come up at the office. I tried his cell, but he's not picking up. Please ma'am. This is an emergency."

The woman smiles at me politely, evidently not believing me for a second, and apologizes, "I'm sorry miss, but I don't have a record of such a person staying at this hotel."

Like _hell _she doesn't. She didn't even bother to check! He _has _to be here. Damien's reliable source told him so.

"Of course, my mistake," I echo, walking away to sit in one of the lobby chairs.

No need to cause a scene.

She continues to observe me from where she's seated, but eventually, she turns away, tending instead to a complaining customer.

Taking the opportunity, I slip past her into one of the nearby hallways. Finding a more secluded area, I take my cell phone out from my purse, punching in Damien's number immediately. It's actually kind of sad how I have it memorized now.

_Ring. Ring. Ring._

Come on, pick up, pick up, _pick up_!

"Damien," I hear him acknowledge on the other end of the line moments later much to my relief.

"Oh perfect," I breathe, filling him in on the current situation, "Damien, they won't give me his room number. Is there anyway you can find out what room he's staying in?"

"Sorry," he apologizes and I can hear him typing something or another into his laptop. "I've been trying to break into their database since you left, but no such luck yet. Their security system is _solid _Blair. I mean, no wonder people pay so much money to stay there. You can check in and out of there without having anyone know you were ever there in the first place."

Yeah, not exactly what I wanted to hear.

"Great," I mutter, fingers pinching the bridge of my nose in frustration. "What am I supposed to do now?"

"Hang around?" he suggests and I groan immediately upon hearing his words. "Maybe you'll hear something or better yet, actually _see _him. He has to leave the hotel some time, right? Or come back, depending on where he is right now I guess. What other choice do you have Blair? I'll keep trying to break into the system on my end of things, but it's not looking promising at the moment."

"I guess," I agree, half wanting to just hop on a plane headed back to New York and forget all of this.

After all, the awards show is tomorrow night and I _have _to be there for the Jenny takedown, regardless of the fact that I'm not exactly in the mood to do it anymore.

Then again, I'll never learn Chuck's secret any other way. It's not like he's going to miraculously decide to spill his guts to me when he comes back to New York. I can't move on with this relationship knowing that there's this huge _thing _looming over us.

"Thanks Damien," I murmur finally before hanging up on him. "Oh, and let Serena and Penelope know I survived the plane ride."

I throw my phone back into my purse. Well, I suppose I'll just wander around the establishment now and maybe try to get some of the staff talking.

I head over to the elevators and press the 'up' button. I take a step forward when the doors finally open up in front of me, but then I freeze because Chuck's standing _right _there on the other side.

"Blair?" he questions, looking confused and I almost want to deny my own identity.

I _seriously _need to work on this whole spying thing.

"Blair, what the _hell _are you doing here?" he elaborated, except he's no longer looking confused.

Actually, he seems kind of…angry. He grabs my arm and pulls me into the elevator. When we arrive at the ninth floor, he pulls me out (again by my arm), refusing to look at me until we're in his hotel room.

"You're hurting me!" I let him know as he closes the door firmly behind us.

"Blair, _what are you doing here_?" he repeats and now he has me fired up.

"To find out what you're hiding Chuck," I tell him honestly, narrowing my eyes. "Did you hide her somewhere or did she have time to escape?"

"You think I'm _cheating _on you?" he deduces with a scoff. "I've told you before Blair. I'm not. Nice to know you trust me."

"Do _not _get me started on trust Chuck," I retort, not having even brought up those files in his safe yet. "Honestly, what else am I supposed to think? I finally sleep with you and then you just up and disappear without so much as a goodbye the next morning. Oh, and _then_, I find out that you've been lying to me about your whereabouts. London, Chuck? _Really?_"

He sighs and surprisingly, agrees with me, "Alright, fair enough. I guess I can see how you might have drawn the conclusion that I was cheating on you. How the hell did you manage to track me down anyway Waldorf?"

"Damien," I inform him before adding, "And I found all those files about me and my friends in your safe by the way. You want to tell me what the hell _those _are about Chuck while we're here?"

Immediately, his previously dissipated anger seems to return.

"You went through my _safe_?" he hisses in disbelief, running a hand through his hair in frustration. "How the hell did you get into the safe Blair? I don't exactly leave the code lying around."

"Believe it or not Bass," I tell him haughtily, hands on my hips. "Humphrey helped with that one, but getting back to the main point now, why do you have those files Chuck? _Especially _the one on David Fields. Honestly, do you have _any _idea how _creepy _that is?"

"Oh him," Chuck echoed with a smirk, seemingly proud of himself. "That's an easy one. You mentioned your first time with him was terrible, remember? That he dumped you the next morning? Well, I couldn't very well let him get away with that, now could I?"

My eyes widen at his confession, half sort of touched by his gesture and half kind of…afraid.

"Did you…kill him?" I wonder hopefully and he laughs.

"A little dramatic Waldorf, even for me," he lets me know and although I breathe a sigh of relief, I'm also kind of disappointed. "I did hire someone to rough him up a little though. Don't worry. He's still alive. I mean, there wasn't even any blood."

"I suppose that's alright then," I muse, a small smile on my lips. "But what about the rest of us? Seriously, I'm dying to hear your explanation."

"Look Waldorf," he begins, sitting down on the bed and motioning for me to join him. "I'm the CEO of Bass Industries. I do background checks on everyone I meet. I probably should have drawn the line though at doing one on my own girlfriend and I'm sorry. It's just that trust has always been an issue for me."

I eye him for a moment. Well, he _does _look genuinely sorry.

"Why did you even bother to try to get to know me then if you already knew everything there was to know about me?" I continue, tilting my head to the side in anticipation of his answer.

"Hearing everything directly from you is different than reading it on paper Blair," he simply explains, wisely adding, "But I know that's not an excuse. I swear. The moment I get home, I'm going to burn those files, alright? I _promise_."

I find myself smiling at his choice of words.

"Uh, why are you smiling at me like that?" he questions, looking slightly worried by the current expression on my face. "Did I _actually _say something right?"

"You said home," I point out to him as my smile widens. "Planning to move to New York permanently Bass?"

He smirks and inches closer to me.

"Well, maybe," he enlightens me. "You see, there's this girl there that I think I'm sort of in love with. Don't tell her though."

I feel my breath catch in my throat then. _Oh God._

"You're in love with me?" I whisper doubtfully because honestly, who would have ever thought that those words were even _in _his freaking vocabulary?

"Please don't make me say those words again," he says, feigning physical pain. "It was hard enough for me the first time around."

I roll my eyes, pushing him away. _What a romantic._

"Feel free to return the sentiment though Waldorf," he tells me, actually looking a little worried that I might not.

"Not until you tell me what you're hiding here in Denver," I say, crossing my arms over my chest in defiance. "You _told _me your business in Denver was personal, so think about that before you start spinning your lies again."

His face grows serious at my words and then suddenly, he stands up from the bed, offering me his hand.

"Well, you were brave enough to board a plane to come and track me down, so I guess you deserve to know the truth," he notes, taking my hand and leading me out the door. "But you _have _to promise me that this will stay between you and me Blair."

"Of course," I assure him, my curiosity increasing by the second.

About five minutes later, when we slide into his limo, I hear him ask the limo driver to take us to Presbyterian/St. Luke's Medical Center.

_Huh?_ Why the hell are we going to a hospital?

* * *

As we walk through the hallways of the hospital, I start to feel sick. I feel so terrible about having accused him of cheating when he's actually been visiting someone here. He didn't really reveal much to me during the limo ride over, but I'm not going to rush him.

Finally, he stops in front of a room at the end of the hall. There's a viewing window, but the blinds are closed, so I can't see who's inside. He motions for me to wait as he knocks lightly on the door. Several moments later, a nurse comes out to greet him, closing the door quietly behind her.

"Chuck, wonderful to see you again," she greets him, turning to smile at me as well. "You can go in and see him now, but he just came out of his chemotherapy session with Dr. Lockney, so he might be a little tired. He's very excited to see you though."

"Thanks Colleen," he responds as I stand there in complete shock.

A _brother_? Since when did Chuck have a _brother_?

"No need to look so guilty Waldorf," he comforts me when he sees my expression. "You couldn't have known. Only a handful of people really even know he exists. Come on."

He takes my hand and leads me into the room before I can protest. I stay in the background as he approaches the slightly younger boy on the bed. He looks about Jenny's age I guess.

"Wow bro, I let you out of my sight for two hours and you already managed to…" he starts, but Chuck cuts him off, introducing me.

"This is _Blair_," he stresses, casting him a warning look. "_Blair Waldorf?_"

Immediately, he shuts up, nodding in understanding as he motions for me to come over to his side.

"_You're_ Blair Waldorf?" he confirms, giving me a small smile. "Nice to finally meet you. He never shuts up about you when he's here you know. Plus, you're the first girlfriend he's _ever _had and believe me, that's _huge_."

I smile politely at him, wanting to say something, but I don't even know his name. He seems to read my mind.

"I'm Eric," he reveals, shaking my hand properly. "Chuck's probably told you _nothing _about me. He likes to shield me from the entire world."

"To protect you," Chuck reminds him and Eric waves off his sentiment.

"Yeah, yeah, I know," he assures him before filling me in, "We're brothers by the way in case you didn't know that yet. Well, actually, not exactly..."

If I didn't look confused before, I do now.

"Same father, different mother," Chuck explains quickly as Eric adds, "Except he never married _my _mom, so I'm more like Bart's _illegitimate _son."

"Oh," I comment lamely and Eric laughs as I wonder, "So, how did you two um, meet?"

"Reading of our father's will," Chuck shares, thinking back to that day. "When he's ready, half of Bass Industries will be his."

"I doubt I'll ever be," Eric commented lightheartedly. "I mean, the whole cancer thing and all."

"You're _going _to get better," Chuck assures him and my heart flutters at just how much he cares for his brother. "Dr. Lockney has said nothing but positive things about your progress."

"I guess," Eric shrugs nonchalantly before looking at us apologetically. "I'm actually kind of tired from my treatment, so…"

"Oh yeah, sure," Chuck acknowledges, standing up from the bed and taking my hand again. "We'll just be downstairs in the café, ok?"

"Uh huh," Eric whispers, eyes half closed already.

We walk out quietly, Chuck signaling to the nurse to keep an eye on him as we leave. Only when we get to the café do we actually talk again. Well, _I_ start anyway.

"Chuck," I begin, wanting to say the right thing.

"Shocking I know," he interrupts me, leading me over to one of the tables in the far corner of the room. "I'm sorry I kept this from you, but I couldn't take that risk with you yet. To be fair, I _was _planning to tell you the morning after, but then, the hospital called, telling me that someone's been asking around about the Bass family and I had to leave. That someone's been dealt with now, so you don't have to worry about that."

"I'm sorry for being so damn nosy," I apologize, but he cuts me off again, assuring me, "One of the many things I love about you Waldorf. Just promise me you'll keep this a secret, ok? You can't even tell Serena or Penelope. I can't have the world know he exists yet. There are too many people out there who would try to take advantage of him, especially with his condition, you know? I _have _to protect him."

"You can trust me," I promise him, resting my hand on top of his. "How did you two become so close by the way? I mean, I would have expected _some _tension between the two of you at the very least considering that fact that you only found out about him at the reading of the will."

"Oh believe me," Chuck admits, letting out a deep breath. "I was _plenty _shocked when I first found out. I didn't even know my father was even seeing someone else after my mother died. I got over it though. I mean, with Bart dead and both of our mother's dead, we're really the only family we have, you know? And no, Jack _doesn't _count."

"What happened to his mother?" I inquire, not having considered counting Jack anyway.

"Drug overdose," he fills me in, although he asks of me, "Try not to bring up his mother in front of him by the way. He's super sensitive about it."

I nod, still trying to absorb all of this newfound information that's being thrown at me.

"You know," Chuck continues when I don't respond. "I'm actually kind of glad you came after me with a vengeance. Now, we have no secrets between us."

_Hmmm_, why does that statement make me so damn uncomfortable? _Oh right…_

"Except I never told you about my bulimia, not personally anyway," I remind him and he smiles, placing a small kiss on my temple.

"I know you don't want to talk about that, so don't worry about it," he tells me.

"Well, there's honestly not much to tell," I inform him, wanting to as honest with him as he's been with me. "I was always really insecure about my body in high school. My mom was a major contributing factor to my insecurities, but there were other factors too like my peers. I tortured myself to be "perfect" I guess you could say. I mean, I definitely don't have a eating disorder anymore. It's just painful to remember those times you know? I was so…weak during that period of my life."

"You? _Weak?_" he repeats with a scoff. "Never Waldorf, not in my eyes anyway."

"Thank you," I respond, sincerity in my every word. "That actually means a lot."

"So, shall I tell the pilot to take us back to New York tomorrow morning?" he suggests then.

"Why tomorrow morning?" I wonder, forehead wrinkled in confusion.

"Well, we certainly can't miss the Jenny takedown, now can we Waldorf?" he offers and I grin.

"What about Eric? I can head back myself. You should probably stay with him," I say, but he shakes his head.

"No, Eric's fine now," he assures me. "Like I said, I dealt with the threat already. Plus, Eric wants me to be there too."

"Well, I guess I can't say no then, right?" I echo as Chuck nods in agreement, making the call.

_Game on Jenny. Game on._


	20. Beginning

**A/N:** The final chapter has finally arrived. I know the ride started out a little rough in the beginning, so a _huge _thank you to those of you who saw this story through until the very end. The last bit of the chapter touches once again on the novel, one which I implore you to read. Please leave me with one final review and although I am an advocate of the phrase 'never say never', I have a feeling this will be my last Gossip Girl story. It's been fun.

**Beginning**

* * *

"Oh no," Penelope comments, shaking her head at me as she watches me bite my lower lip in obvious agony. "You're not…second guessing this, are you?"

"Of course not," I snap at her, although that had _not _been my intention in the least bit. "But I can't do this if my mother doesn't bring Jenny her goddamn designs!"

"Wait, I thought we were taking her _down_," Serena clarifies, her eyebrows stitched together in confusion.

"Catch up blondie," Chuck tells her, rolling his eyes. "Eleanor's bringing her the _modified _versions of her designs of course."

"I'm _still _not following," she informs him in return. "Isn't the whole point of this to prove that that _butterfly _dress is Blair's? How is tampering with Jenny's other designs going to help our cause?"

Penelope pinches the bridge of her nose in frustration then and reminds her, "Because Eleanor stitched those scarlet letters we gave to her onto each of them, remember? You brought them to her for God's sake!"

After a moment of pondering, Serena smiles in enlightenment over her words.

"Gotcha," she voices, spelling the word out to us for confirmation, "T-E-A-C-H, right? As in we're going to _teach _her a lesson? Very clever Blair."

Before any of us can wipe the look of absolute disbelief off of our faces and correct her, my mother arrives (finally!), dresses in hand.

"Oh thank God you're here," I breath, rushing over to her immediately and taking the designs from her hands. "Agnes, take these backstage and make the switch right away. Make sure Jenny doesn't catch you, alright?"

She nods at my instructions and scurries off backstage. Lucky for me, Jenny's assistant isn't a huge fan of her either. Otherwise, we might not have been able to pull this off tonight, especially since Jenny had given the event staff specific instructions to let _no one _backstage except for her assistant and her models.

"Thanks for coming through for me," I thank my mom quickly before turning to address everyone else. "You all remember what to do, right?"

They all nod in response much to my relief. Alright, show time. I wring my hands together in anticipation as Jenny begins to deliver her acceptance speech, her new, shiny award in hand.

"_Wow_," she starts, her free hand pressed to her chest in feigned shock. "This is _such _an honor. There are _so _many people I'd like to thank, but I'd like to dedicate this award to my deceased parents. Mom, dad, I know you're watching over me up there in heaven and I hope I've made you proud tonight! Thank you!"

I find myself rolling my eyes at her vomit-inducing speech. Don't get me wrong. That speech would have been _totally _touching if the wicked witch of the Upper East Side hadn't been the one to give it. I mean, just _look _at that fake smile she's plastered onto her face! She doesn't even look sincere!

She's about to walk off the stage now as the audience applauds, so that her little showcase can begin, but Penelope blocks her path. I can see them arguing with each other in hushed tones as the lights begin to dim from where I'm standing. Jenny looks in slight panic to the right stage exit after a moment (her _only_ other exit option) only to find Serena stationed there. She's stuck on stage just like I had planned. Perfect, stage one complete! It wouldn't be a very successful confrontation without her, now would it?

As the five models begin to walk out on stage, I'm feeling particularly giddy because _I_ know what's to come. Of course, my attention is on Jenny rather than the models as I'm waiting anxiously for her reaction. After all, _I_ already know what those five models are going to spell out for me, for her, and subsequently, for the rest of the country.

I notice Chuck cock his head to the back of the room then by the judges' table. I swivel around in the direction he's pointing me towards to find my mother motioning for the press to have their equipment ready for what's to come. You know, I _truly _believe that the two of us are on our way to a fabulous mother-daughter relationship. Who knew my mother was such a good scheming partner?

The moment the models have lined up on stage, they turn. As rehearsed, Dan increases the brightness of the lights in order to successfully highlight the carefully thought out word across their garments, _C-H-E-A-T_.

At first, she smiles wide because the audience has gone silent. I feel like laughing. The girl _actually _thinks her designs have rendered them speechless! That poor, naïve child. When she finally catches on to what has happened, however, her jaw drops wide open, her eyes even wider still. Recovering from her initial shock, she runs over to the models to shoo them off the stage as the audience (including the committee) murmurs amongst themselves about the scandal. She grabs the microphone from the podium and pushes her hair out of her face, her cheeks flushed, evidently trying to regain her composure.

"I'm terribly sorry," she apologizes to the committee, to the viewers. "I have no idea what just happened there. I _assure _you that those were _not _my original designs. Someone has evidently tampered with them."

Then, her expression changes because the implications of her own words seems to set in. She looks out into the crowd and I just _know _she's searching me out. She spots me just as my mother arrives at my side. The two of us share a victorious smile before giving her a little wave from where we are, which only serves to infuriate her.

"_You set me up? You pathetic little bitch!_" she screeches, obviously forgetting where she is at the moment and giving absolutely _no _thought to the word 'decorum'.

The audience gasps at her outburst. _How classy._

Finally, one of the judges clears his throat, silencing the audience. Walking up to the podium, he brushes Jenny aside.

"It has come to our attention that the designs we have seen just now may not be Miss Humphrey's," he informs the audience, who again gasp in surprise (_seriously_, do these people have any other expressions?). "Until we can do a complete investigation on the matter, I'm afraid we'll have to revoke Miss Humphrey's award for the time…"

"_She _tampered with my designs!" Jenny persists, effectively interrupting the judge.

She's pointing to me as I casually join her on stage.

"These are _my _designs!" she continues to shout, only further embarrassing herself. "I have the original sketches to prove it!"

Turning on the microphone in my own hands, I agree with her, "Actually sir, those designs are _indeed _Miss Humphrey's and yes, I _did _tamper with them."

Jenny smiles victoriously upon hearing my words. The judge just looks even more irritated.

"We are in the middle of an awards show here," the judge hisses, clearly unhappy about the disruption.

"I guarantee you this won't take long. Plus, the network and I have an understanding with one another," I assure him, taking a step closer to the young blonde. "As I was saying, those designs may be hers, but the centerpiece that won her the award? That's mine, isn't it Jenny?"

I lean in close to ear and add (for her ears only), "I'm giving you a chance to admit to your mistake and repent. You might get some sympathy from the viewers that way. Otherwise, I'll _ruin _you. You'll _never _set foot in the fashion industry again, at least not in this country."

She seems to consider my generous offer for a moment before deciding to board the train of humiliation instead.

"She's lying," Jenny assures the audience, a nervous chuckle in her throat. "She's _always _been jealous of me."

"Young lady, do you have any _proof _that this dress design is yours?" the judge addresses me, deciding to just settle this right here and now. "Because if you don't, I'd really appreciate it if you'd stop wasting everyone's time."

I hand him the re-drawings I did of my dress then, a triumphant smirk on my face. He takes them in his hands and flips through them daintily, saying '_hmmm_' every so often. I swear I see a drop of sweat running down the side of Jenny's face right now as the rest of audience continues to watch in stunned silence. After awhile, the judge speaks again.

"I know how to settle this," he finally announces, readjusting his glasses on the bridge of his nose. "Tell me Miss Humphrey, what was your vision when you included those extra buttons and zippers into the design. They're quite lovely, but they don't seem to serve a purpose."

She looks at him skeptically, turning to observe me for a split second before returning her attentions to him. She's _obviously _trying to figure out what I'm up to, but she can't of course.

"Go ahead, explain your design Jenny," I dare her and she does or at least she attempts to.

"I just wanted to spice up my piece," she explains with a nonchalant shrug, walking over to the model who's wearing the dress, the one design of hers we _didn't _tamper with. "It gives it a more aesthetically pleasing look, don't you think?"

There are some murmurs of agreement from the audience, but all is quiet again when I speak up.

"Wrong answer," I tell her sweetly, walking over to the model myself and waving Jenny away. "I included them in the design for a reason. I would never even have remembered this had my mother not sparked my memory, so thank you for that."

She nods at me in encouragement from the audience as I continue.

"Get to point Blair," Jenny says before I can though, her current stance suggesting that she's not in the least bit threatened by me.

Her underestimation of my abilities to bring her down _never _seizes to amuse me. I mean, she never even saw _this _coming despite all of the preventive measures she had taken to make sure that I wouldn't be anywhere _near _this event tonight.

"There are six ways to wear this dress," I reveal at last, turning to face the audience as I do so. "Miss Humphrey, needless to say, isn't aware of this, since she merely copied my design stitch for stitch so to speak."

Jenny scoffs, rolling her eyes in absolute incredulity. When she notices that she's the only one doing so, however, she desperately turns towards the awards committee.

"You cannot _seriously _be believing the nonsense that's coming out of her mouth right now," Jenny clarifies, throwing her hands up into the air in frustration. "She works at Bass Industries for God's sake! She doesn't have a creative bone in her goddamn body!"

"Please Miss Humphrey, let her finish," the judge asks of her in return and Jenny (of course) can't very well refuse.

As I go through each of the ways to wear my design, giving purpose to each and every button and zipper on there, the crowd is amazed. Jenny? Not so much. Actually, she's kind of foaming a little at the mouth at the moment. After I finish with my demonstration, Jenny looks absolutely _livid_, the audience beginning to chatter amongst themselves once more. I'm more interested in the fact that the _committee _is chatting amongst themselves to be honest.

Five minutes later, one of the judges from the panel makes his way over to the stage, whispering something or another into the first judge's ear as the rest of us wait in anticipation.

"Given what has been presented to committee by Miss Waldorf," he states finally, getting the attention of the audience. "We hereby revoke Miss Humphrey's award. Only the original designer of the piece could have _possibly _known what Miss Waldorf knows."

He then approaches me and I feel like I might faint. _This _is the moment I've been waiting for, the moment where I've finally destroyed the evil that is Jenny Humphrey.

"Congratulations Miss Waldorf," he says, shaking my hand and handing me Jenny's award. "We look forward to your future endeavors in the fashion world."

The crowd breaks into applause immediately afterward, my friends and family cheering the loudest of course. When I catch a glimpse of security escorting Jenny off the stage kicking and screaming out of the corner of my eye, I can't help but think that yeah, victory can be pretty damn _sweet_.

I make a quick thank you speech and then walk off stage, the show at long last able to go on as planned. As they hand out the next award, we're already out the door. Compared to what just happened, the rest of the awards show is bound to be dull anyway.

"That was so freaking _awesome_!" Serena shouts the moment we're outside, her smile even more explosive than mine.

"Did you _see _the look on her face?" Penelope adds excitedly, beaming wide. "I don't know about you guys, but I got some _great _shots."

"Plus, we can relive the moment whenever we want to," Dan inputs, having been quite appreciative when I agreed to include him in my plans.

"Yes, the entire _country _can relive the moment should they ever wish to," my mother points out, following my father into the limo. "Honestly, we'd love to stay and celebrate with you dear, but your father and I are not young anymore. We're going to go home and get some much needed rest. We'll see you at brunch tomorrow, yes?"

A Jenny-free family brunch? _Hell yeah!_

"Absolutely," I promise her, giving her a quick hug.

Before she leaves, however, she looks past me to address Chuck.

"You can come too Charles if you'd like," she says and he smiles, assuring her, "I'll be there."

Not soon after, Serena and Dan bid us goodbye. They're going to stay at his loft tonight. Now, I _still _don't like him, but at least I don't want to light myself on fire anymore when I'm around him. We're making _serious _progress here.

"You want to come over?" Chuck wonders then, leaning in close to my ear.

_Damn. _I want to say yes, but seeing Penelope all alone a mere few steps away just _completely _breaks my heart.

"Not tonight," I inform him, cocking my head over to where Penelope's currently standing and Chuck seems to understand.

"No, go B," she echoes sadly instead. "I'll be fine. I'm a big girl."

Much to our surprise, Chuck smirks at her response. _Ugh!_ Does he find some _sick _pleasure in her unhappiness or something?

"Actually, I've got that covered," he enlightens the two of us and judging by the expression on Penelope's face at the moment, she's confused as hell too. "Louis?"

At the mention of his name, Penelope's eyes widen in shock and I'm just pissed. How _dare _he plan something without my input! Besides, Serena and I have already _made _plans to do something about him. We just haven't put them into motion yet.

"Penny," Louis greets her hesitantly, walking over to Chuck's side. "Can we talk?"

In my haze, I didn't even take note of where he came from, but that's not important. What's important right now is that I protect my best friend from further heartbreak.

"You sure as hell _cannot_," I answer for her, stepping in between them. "So unless you're interested in being castrated in less than sixty seconds, I suggest you go back to where you came from, _got it_?"

"Ok, come on, Blair," Chuck interjects, dragging me into his waiting limo. "Let the two of them talk."

I'm about to protest vehemently, but upon turning to look at her, she seems to agree with Chuck, so I sigh in defeat and enter the vehicle.

Before we leave though, I poke my head out of the window and make sure she knows, "Call me if you need me P, no matter the time."

She nods, a grateful smile on her face as she waves me off. I keep watching them from the window though until the limo makes a left turn into the next street.

"Waldorf, everything's going to be _fine_," Chuck assures me, taking my hand. "Now, if you could stop worrying about your best friend's love life for a moment, I'd like to discuss ours."

Ok, _now _he's got my attention.

"Excuse me?" I clarify, wondering what the hell _we _could possibly need to discuss.

"Now normally, I'm a very patient man Blair," he explains, loosening his tie a little. "However, I'd very much appreciate it if you returned my earlier sentiment some time soon."

_His earlier sentiment?_ I'm lost for a moment or two, but then, I finally catch on to what he's _oh so subtly _asking of me.

"Aw," I tease him, playing with his hair. "Is me telling you I love you too Chuck somehow tied to your self worth?"

He scoffs, rolling his eyes at the very idea as he slaps my hand away.

"Not a chance in hell Waldorf," he lies, avoiding my gaze.

"Ok, well, for the record, I do," I tell him anyway, shifting closer to him.

He opens his mouth and I know he probably has some smartass retort in mind, so I kiss him then to shut him up. He seems to want to push me away at first to finish his thoughts, but then thinks twice and changes his mind, kissing me even more urgently than before. It's a miracle. I'm in love with an amazing guy who's head over heels over me too and the best part? It's not even a damn secret.

* * *

_Six months later_

As I'm lying on top of the hard wood surface of Chuck's office desk, trying to catch my breath, I'm thinking that my life turned out to be pretty damn great after all.

I mean, I actually kind of look _forward _going to work each day now. Turns out Vanessa and I actually make a pretty awesome team when we're not plotting to make the other person miserable. I still spit in her coffee every once in a while when she _really _pisses me off, but you know, we're civil with each other for the most part. Plus, I get to have office sex with Chuck practically every day. I've learnt that sex with the added fear of getting caught at any moment is actually quite exhilarating. The smug bastard always reminds me that it's one of the perks of being his favorite employee.

What makes my life so great is that my friends are also doing well. We've all moved in with our boyfriends now, but we're closer than ever. We've even kept the apartment around for rainy days (read: whenever our boyfriends do something stupid and piss us off). Career wise, they're doing better than ever just like I am. For one, Serena's TV show is a _huge _hit. It's actually kind of cool being best friends with someone famous. Humphrey thinks otherwise of course. Apparently, her suitors just make him extremely insecure about himself (as he should be in my opinion). As for Penelope, she and Louis reconciled on the same night I took Jenny down. He gave up his title to be with her after all, which is sort of romantic I guess. They run this neat little catering company together now and they've even hired Bree to help, which is great.

Speaking of Bree, sometimes I can't help but feel a little jealous of her. She and Nate are engaged! They've only been dating for about as long as Chuck and I have, but apparently, they're each other's soul mates, whatever _that _means. I'm still not sure I fully understand the meaning of the term. I'm in no rush to get married of course, but it'd be nice to know that Chuck had _some _plans for our future. The man doesn't think past what we're having for dinner that night for crying out loud! Problem is I'm still hopelessly in love him anyway. Plus, I love having Eric around. He's in remission right now and living with us. He's slowly learning the ropes at Bass Industries and soon enough, he'll be running the company alongside Chuck.

My relationship with my own family is wonderful as well. I mean, my mother and I have our arguments here and there and sometimes I feel like punching her in the face, but all in all, we've made a lot of progress from where we were before. I've dubbed that dark period in my life the pre-Jenny-take-down era. On the subject of Jenny, I actually haven't heard from her in a while, which further adds to the list of reasons as to why my life is so freaking _awesome _right now. She left Manhattan not long after her reputation was trashed on national TV and I never saw her again. I've heard a rumor that Damien went after her again though. Some boys just never learn I suppose.

So yeah, at _this _particular moment, I wouldn't trade my life with any one person in this _entire _world. As for the whole deal with my secrets, I'm happy to announce that Chuck and I are still _completely_ honest with each other. He's the only person in the whole _universe _that knows each and every one of my secrets. I don't keep _anything _from him.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks me then, interrupting my thoughts as he runs his hand suggestively up my inner thigh.

"Nothing," I answer him, a moan on my lips as I signal for him to hurry the hell up.

Alright, so actually, come to think of it, I might have this _one _little secret I keep from my gorgeous CEO boyfriend.

1. I've already planned our wedding. In fact, I've already started to name each and every one of our future children.


End file.
